#the light swish sound when he walks

[nerfpuncher]

I really hope they give Echo back his kama this season. Like my boy looks naked without it.

[sugawhaaa]

°☆---SMUT SKZ REACTION---☆°

°☆~Walking in on the two of you having sex~☆°

Warnings/genre::SMUT, rough sex (Minho, Jeongin, Changbin,) BDSM (Felix) sex toys, (Felix) degradation, (minho) oral, (hyunjin, seungmin) fingering (seungmin) I think that's it 🧍🏻‍♀️

Pairing:: ot8!skz x fem!reader

A/N:: skz phase is back guys... sorry not sorry 😁 also this fanfic has me bashing my head against the wall I love it sm

Bangchan

Channie had you sitting on top of him while his hands rested at your hips, guiding you up and down his cock. The two of you had been going at it for a hot minute so this final round was quite weak. Bangchans hair was sweaty and his lips were chapped from heavy breathing. You didn't look in any better shape.

Channie swished your hair all to one side to see your beautiful face. He rubbed your bottom lip before praising you "just a bit longer babe, you're doing so good,"

That's when the door opened to Changbin. He froze for a moment as channie went to cover your body, protecting your privacy rather than his own. Bangchan gave changbin a look that said "bitch what do you want?" And changbin cleared his throat.

"S-Sorry just wanted to say Jisung door dashed some Chopchae but...I see you're busy," he closed over the door before saying "Have fun," and the door latched. Chan sighed and wiped down his face.

"Where were we?"

Minho

"You like that hm? When I call you a slut?" Lee know had you bent over the edge of the bed with your hands chained up to the bedframe left completely helpless as he pounded you from behind.

"Y-Yes," you pant out as you feel drool building up in your mouth that you can't wipe away. You squint your eyes shut as your head spins with pleasure. Minho starts thrusting faster, the room filling with the sound of his hips slapping against your ass harshly and the bed creaking for help. There was a light knock on the door and the two of you pause. The door opens to Jisung who is smiling and...innocent. Moments before being scarred for life.

"I bought some pudding for us toni-" Han pauses and his jaw drops. Minho grabs a bottle of lube and throws it at him. "Ah Jesus! It was an accident!" Jisung blocks his face as the lube comes flying at him.

"Then get out!" Minho yells and Jisung scurries away and closes the door. Minho sighs softly before adding to his comment. "And don't you dare tell me you saw Y/N like this!" He shouts before huffing. You felt kind of bad for jisung so you made a light hearted comment.

"At least he knocked"

Changbin

Changbin was always a fan of aggressive sex, not all the time, but he did like it when the two of you indulged in it. Tonight he had you on your knees, originally doggy style, and he held your arms back as he pounded into you from behind. Your cries and moans pierced through the walls as he gripped your wrists tightly. He then let go of one wrist to hold your throat and tilt your head up, showcasing his control over you.

"I'm close," you cry out in a hoarse voice and Changbin grins before doubling his efforts. His hand went from your throat to your hair and pulled your head back that way. You could feel yourself drooling but you didn't bother to clean yourself up.

That's when your greatest fear came to life. The door opened to a tired Jeongin with his skincare still on and his headband throwing back his spikey hair. His eyes then widened as Changbin froze. You ducked down and buried your face in the blankets.

"Oh shit," Jeongin covered the view with his hand as his face burnt red, his ears a bright red. "Sorry, I didn't see anything," he stumbled backward, his eyes shut, before closing the doors. You sigh before groaning into the bed sheets. Changbin pats your back comfortingly. You couldn't believe Jeongin saw you in such a state...

Hyunjin

Hyunjin sat you at the edge of the bed and went on his knees. He had your legs parted with his head sandwiched in between your thighs eating you out. Your moans were soft and quiet, surprisingly, but the room was filled with set and sloppy sounds. The overhead light was off so the only source of light was the lamp on your nightstand.

As hyunjin noticed your body tensing and your legs shaking he began to trace feather light circles on your leg, adding an extra bit of sensual contact. He moaned against your core softly as your orgasm hit. You threw your head back as your breath shook with pleasure. Hyunjin drank up every last drop of your arousal, poking his tongue between the tight folds and sucking the cum out of your pussy.

That's when the door opened. Felix stood in the doorway, at first not noticing the situation he walked into, before realizing you were completely naked. "Oh shit-" he put a hand over your body from his POV. Hyunjin turned around, cum dripping from his lips and he froze. He didn't want his friend to see him or you in this situation.

Hyunjin covered his mouth partially from shock and partially to cover the evidence of your "fun". Felix rushed out of the room and closed the door behind him before shouting "sorry!" And fleeing down the hall.

Felix

Felix can be somewhat intimidating during sex, a side that only you get to see and cherish. He's usually very gentle with his precious angel, you, but every now and then you plead him to treat you like an object, a toy, or one would say a slut. Tonight was one of those nights.

Felix had you awkwardly tied up on the bed, on your knees with your arms up and attached to a chain hooked to the ceiling and a vibrator between your legs. He sat behind you and occasionally played with your breasts, nibbled your back, or fingered your clit. Currently he was groping you as you whined and squirmed against the vibrator.

"Just a little bit more," he rasped into your ear as he flicked and fingered your nipples. Just as your release began to pile up the door swung open to Seungmin, innocently expecting Yongbok on his phone or ps5. His jaw instantly dropped before turning into a look mixed with disappointment and disgust.

Meanwhile you and Felix were flustered as all hell, you were still on the verge of cumming and basically helpless when tied up like this and Felix straight up froze. Seungmin left without saying a word and closed the door. You curse loudly as you cum and throw your head back but Felix is still frozen.

"Can you turn this vibrator off before I fall apart?" you whimper and Felix blushes.

"S-Sorry, yeah,"

Jisung

Han always holds you close when you have sex, skin ship is meaningful to him. He currently has you laid back, in missionary position, while he leans down to basically hug your body while he fucks you. Tonight was a night of lazy yet romantic sex. It wasn't about going fast or teasing it was just about experiencing pleasure with each other.

The two of you were surprisingly quiet for once, in the sense you weren't talking dirty to each other, the room filled with soft sighs and little groans. "You're so beautiful baby," Han groans into your ear as he begins to lose himself in you. You bring your hands up to claw at his sweaty back as your climaxes start to build.

Jisung bites down on your neck to quiet his moans and you let out a cry of pleasure and the door opens. Straight faced minho holding a grocery bag. You and Han freeze and look at Lee know surprised. "I got pudding...it's here if you guys want some when you're done," he gestures to the bag and leaves, closing the door behind himself. You and Han look at each other before laughing softly.

"He's so weird," you chuckle as you smile up at jisung. Han blushes and nods, his sweaty bangs falling into his face.

"He's always like that...pudding does sound nice after this though..."

Seungmin

Seungmin held your legs open wide as he licked circles around your folds, his finger flicking your G-spot teasingly at the same time. Seungmin is always such a tease, especially with foreplay and today it was driving you mad. "Please seungmin~" you whine as you pout down at him but your pleas have no effect on him. "Please!" You whine again and he shoves two fingers deep inside you.

You cry out as your body jerks forward.

"Stop whining," he growls and you whine as you throw your head back. His fingers steadily thrusted in and out of your tight wet folds as you fight the urge to squirm and wiggle around in pleasure. "Good girl," he smirks in a cold tone. Suddenly there's a knock on the door and you don't even know how to react but Seungmin doesn't stop his fingers.

You cry out in pleasure as Hyunjin opens the door. Seungmins rhythm never faltered even after Hyunjin was witnessing the scene.

"Go damn, okay, I'm leaving," hyunjin uses his hand to cover your body from his view as Seungmin glares at him. Hyunjin leaves in a hurry just as your orgasm hits. You claw at the sheets and let out a loud groan of pleasure, your legs shaking. Seungmin gently plays with your pussy to extend your orgasm and when you're finally finished you stare at him.

"Why didn't you stop?"

"You were close to cumming, an unwanted guest doesn't effect my performance baby,"

Jeongin

Jeongin is always such an interesting character in bed, very unpredictable. Tonight he decided that he wanted pussy right then and there and I mean, why wouldn't you comply? You ended up being folded underneath him with your legs on his shoulders, his cock effortlessly sliding in and out of you due to the build-up of arousal from your previous fun.

Your arms were wrapped around his back and clawing at his skin and hair. "Please Jeongin!" You cry out in pleasure as your head spins, and your eyes begin to water with desperation. You had been pushed so close to the edge countless times that now you couldn't even function like a normal human being; only a slut. There was then a knock on the door. Jeongin didn't even know how to react when the door began to open.

Bangchan stood in the door with bright smile before his jaw dropped. "Oh my bad," he laughs softly; jeongin lifts you up closer to him to cover your body from Chans view.

"Hyung get out!" He whines loudly, his dominant and rough facade fading due to the audience.

"of course, keep having fun," he smiles as he begins to close the door. "Oh and if you want those marks to go away faster I have some lotion that-"

"Get out!"

[evilgwrl]

TF 141 x Reader (Apocalypse!AU)

Immune: Four

WARNING: This is a 18+ Poly!141 series (MDNI)

CW: Drinking, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), orgasms!!! MDNI

Side note: The house has solar panels and though probably unrealistic, for the story they have some electricity

Masterlist

Price could see it. The nerves bubbling in your stomach, cheeks flushed with an ample shade of red.

He watched you turn, wet clothes drawn to your subtle curves, the swell of your hips outlined as you jogged away. He continued sweeping, smile evident through the crinkle of his eyes with an occasional glance at the door, hoping you would come back and tell him that you did in fact, need help keeping warm.

As soon as you stepped foot inside, you were darting past Gaz, tumbling straight to your bedroom. Your clothes were uncomfortable, sticking to your skin like a disease as you peeled them off and slapped them against the tub, a large thump ringing out.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, your upper half visible as you cupped the brassiere, Price’s words replaying in your mind as you stared, pushing your breasts together in an attempt to feel sexy before letting out a soft groan and unclipping it.

For the most part, you had made do with clothes, having brought a couple when things went to shit and you were somewhat glad that the woman who lived here before you wasn’t completely out of touch with her style. You smoothed the long sleeve down as you brushed your drenched hair out, ringing it into a bun.

You looked at yourself in the mirror, pulling at your cheeks before you began to talk in an attempt to see what they saw when they looked at you. You posed in the mirror before freezing, realising how ridiculous you were being before you plonked downstairs, the sound of your footsteps barely visible thanks to the massive socks you were wearing.

You rummaged through your bag that you had thrown to the side, stocking the cupboards with the tins you had found at the store and the large bag of sugar that you would hopefully be able to bake with, almost tempted to swallow a raw spoonful right now.

You heard the back door shut, a much wetter Price trailing in, stripping off his jacket. Your gaze faltered for a second, taking in the way his clothes clung to his frame, like he did to you, before you looked away.

“Need help?” He asked, his tone almost soothing.

“Didn’t get much, just some tinned vegetables and a bag of sugar. The rest is personal.”

Blue eyes flickered to your bag in curiosity, the hint of a black lid poking out through the top as he raised a thick brow at you. His laugh was almost dry as he walked over and grabbed it, holding it up to the light as the caramel hues swished around.

He muttered something along the lines of, ‘I’ll be damned’ before placing it back on the counter. He paused for a moment, taking you in, the way your lips slightly parted, eyebrows slightly clenched, almost like you wanted to look intimidating and the way your eyes would drop when he looked at you for too long, struggling to find something in the room to focus on.

“You let me know if you need any help with your personal issues, yeah?”

He was talking about drinking the whiskey, you know that, but the way his eyes flickered to your chest, shirt slightly clung to you, the gentle outline of your nipples coaxing through the thin material had your heart pumping faster.

Time passed as you continued to sew, holding the fabric up to yourself, a row of pins stabbed into a tiny cushion to your side. Gaz had settled in the lounge room next to you, eyes occasionally darting to watch you before returning to the page of his book.

You yelped, a loud thump bellowing from outside as you took in the burly frames of two men… and the dead deer laying on the porch. A small buzz sounded through your ears as you looked down, your needle winced through your skin, a shock jolting through you as you picked it out, the instant welcoming of blood streaming down your finger.

Gaz looked at you and then down to your finger, blood evidently slithering down it as he jumped up. “Shit, you ok?”

You nodded, clutching it as you walked over to the sink, an evident wince jolting your frame as you held it under the tap.

“Ay bonnie, didn’t mean to scare you. Y’ alright?” The Scotsman said, stepping inside the house as he shook off like a dog.

“I’m fine,” you muttered as you felt Gaz’s hand grab yours, holding a wet wad of toilet paper to the tiny, yet painful, wound.

“You got bandages?” He said, voice almost a whisper, like it was only meant for you to hear.

“Inside the shared bathroom upstairs, under the cabinet.” Your tone was gentle, it almost felt unusual to use. You watched him nod, bolting upstairs as Soap rushed over, his mohawk extra pointy due to the rain causing a light laugh to pass your lips.

“Aye lass, I’m sorry,” he said, hand wrapping around your finger as he pressed tightly on the wound to constrict the bleeding. Your body twitched slightly, as the pain began to subside at the pressure.

Gaz walked back over, gently unwrapping the makeshift cotton bud as he wrapped the plaster around it, a small prickle of blood quickly disappearing under the sticky beige. You rustled away from the pair as you walked back over to the couch.

Ghost stood there, eyes focused on your every move.

“You’re dripping all over the floor,” you muttered, his gaze dropping to the small puddle he was forming at his feet before he grunted, heavy feet stomping up the stairs.

“Y’ making a skirt?” Soap asked, tone curious as he held up the fabric before plonking down next to you, his weight causing u to sink further into the old couch.

“Trying to,” you replied, taking the skirt from him and placing it on the plush mannequin you found hidden away in the basement months ago.

“Looks good,” Gaz interjected, taking a seat across from you both.

You frowned, suddenly overwhelmed as you looked at the carcass on the porch. “You should prepare that before flies get to it,” you snap, voice coming off more harsh than you intended it too as you glanced at the deer, Soap agreeing with a smile before him and Gaz disappeared out the back door.

It was strange, you weren’t used to sound, especially not the sound of four men. It made your toes curl, heat coiling in your belly both in anxiety… and in more, yet you couldn’t quite place it.

You felt out of place in your own home as you managed to slink out of your room before walking back and forth infront of the stairs, overthinking your entrance.

You weren’t sure why it mattered so much. None of this was permanent. Sure, you had four giant (and good looking) military men laughing and talking in your kitchen. Nothing major.

Your feet graced the stairs as you braced yourself, stomach in tight fits of heat as you entered the kitchen, their voices hushing as they looked at you.

“Hope you don’t mind that we cooked,” Soap quipped, bright smile on his face as he gestured towards the prepared food.

“No, that’s good, thank you,” you say, voice shallow, almost hesitant. They led themselves to the dining room as you paused, glancing towards your half open bag. With five glasses in your hand and a plate of food in the other, you looked down at the heavy bottle wedged in your pants pocket, almost nervous they would drag them down.

You entered and hesitantly placed the glasses on the table along with your food before sitting. Everyone paused for a moment, the room silent before you awkwardly held up the bottle of whiskey, shy smile on your face as they erupted in bashful cheers. You could even almost notice a small smile under Ghost’s mask.

The night felt more fitting now, your body feeling more relaxed and loose as you took a swig out of your glass. Your throat burned for a second, eyes welling with tears as you forced the mixture down your throat before you sighed, heat spreading through your chest as you passed the bottle to Gaz.

“You ain’ told us much about yourself bonnie, let us know who you wer’ before all this shite occurred,” Soap slurred, accent heavier in his slightly drunken state.

You hiccuped, the whiskey making you feel more comfortable as you tried to remember what life was like 297 days ago. “Um, well I turned 24 just before everything began and I worked at a, um, medical centre about four hours from here I guess. My dad owned a restaurant so I worked there occasionally when he needed it but for the most part I lived with my, uh, bestfriend.”

“An’ what happened to her?” Soap blurted as Gaz nudged him, noticing the way your eyes looked down for a second.

“She didn’t make it. She actually,” you paused, “She actually shoved me into a crowd of zombies to escape but uh, I guess it didn’t really work out for her.” You debated telling them that somehow, for some inapplicable reason, you were invisible, immune, to the walking dead. But you didn’t.

“How’d ya survive that?” A gruff voice said as you snapped your eyes to Ghost.

“Don’t know. She had cut her hand open and she was making a lot of noise… guess she looked more edible,” you said, letting out a dry laugh to lighten the mood.

“Doubt that,” Price grumbled, taking a swig as you blushed at his innuendo.

“Um, what about you guys? You were in the military, how was it?”

They laughed.

“It was what it was. We were damn good at it, all of us, I’ll tell you that much,” Price laughed, a hand clamping Ghost’s shoulder for a second before they turned back to you.

You smiled before you looked outside, the dull light above you imposing a low glow across the room. The wind was harshing, rattling against the windows as rain poured down. They followed your gaze as you cleared your throat.

“I can’t send you guys out in that weather,” you began, almost losing your confidence as they looked at you, hopeful gleams on their faces, “you guys are welcome to stay another night, AS LONG as someone wakes up tomorrow and feeds the animals. I would like a sleep in.”

“Aye lass, I’ll do it,” Soap cheered, harsh hand slapping the table as he poured another shout out for everyone. You watched him hold his glass in the air, gesturing that he wanted to cheers before you reluctantly clinked the glasses together, another rowdy chorus coming from both him and Gaz.

You weren’t quite sure what time it was, all you had known was you had been sitting down here, huddled around the dining table drinking and talking for hours. It was calm, entertaining almost.

Gaz was rambling on about a mission they had done a while back, something about terrorists as you slightly zoned out, eyes fixated on the bulging veins running up Ghost’s forearm.

Price cleared his throat as you looked up. “Don’t be zoning out on us bonnie, I was asking if you had a boyfriend,” Soap hiccuped, drunk out of his mind.

“Okay,” you said, dragging out the y, “it is time for me to head to bed. Goodnight everyone.” You heard a chorus of groans as you waved while exiting, subtle smile laced across your face as you stumbled up the stairs.

You changed, tucking yourself in slightly as you closed your blinds. You stilled at the soft knock on the door, the familiar face of Price peaking through before gently opening it fully.

“Hey, love,” he murmured, “Sorry about Soap, lad gets a bit too confident when he’s drunk.”

You looked at him, the heat of the alcohol still pulling in your chest, nestling in the crevice of your belly as you offered him a polite smile.

“It’s okay, wasn’t uncomfortable by anything, just thought it would be my queue to head up.” He nodded in reply. You could feel his hesitation, one foot in the door, the other out as he attempted to conjure something to say.

You stood up, looking up at him as you let out a low breath. No one said anything, both barely moved, bodies parallel, eyes locked. You felt Price push a strand of hair behind your ear, delicate eyes landing on your lips before looking back up.

Your pupils flickered back and forth, looking at him, almost waiting as he did the same before you licked your lips, coating them with a layer of saliva before gently nodding. You didn’t even need to say anything, he knew.

His lips tasted of whiskey, soft beard gently scratching against your cheeks as your teeth kissed. You felt the door shut, his hands reaching down to grope your ass, fingers nimbly digging into the flesh as you both tumbled backwards, lips interlocked.

Your back fell flush against your pillow, rough hands sliding underneath your shirt, mauling at your tits before resting on your nipples, hardened buds puckering through your shirt as he groaned. His hands were desperate as he pulled your top up, sucking in a deep breath as he took in the sight of your bare chest.

“Jesus,” he whispered and you would’ve missed it if you weren’t so focused on his swollen lips, your hands pulling him by the back of the neck into you again. You both groaned against each others mouths, tongues lapping up the taste of each other and the taste of the alcohol that stained your mouths.

Price’s hands grabbed at your chest, fingers rolling your nipples in between each other, a soft gasp leaving your mouth before you watched him pull away, bending down to take one into his mouth.

You let out a guttural groan, your hand slapping across your lips to conceal yourself from making too much noise. He didn’t break eye contact, cerulean voids staring back at you, hands pawing your free breast and your waist, rubbing and kneading.

You felt his hands tugging at your pants, hips raising automatically for him to remove them. Thank God you shaved earlier. He let out a dry laugh, the evident patch of arousal staining your panties a darker shade of grey as you felt his thumb press against the middle, smearing it around.

“Do you want this?” He asked, thumb stilling for a second as he looked at you for any signs of hesitation. You nodded, head bobbing desperately as you bucked your hips for some friction before his hand crashed down, holding you in place.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Y-Yes, yes, I want this,” you rushed out before you let out a gentle whine, thumb pressing against your clothed clit, applying a teasing amount of pressure. You relaxed against the pillow, your neck on display as he took initiative, lips grazing against the tender skin as he sucked and licked, no doubt leaving an obvious mark, a claim.

“Gotta take these off,” he spat, hands gripping at the lace, practically burning the fabric against your skin as he ripped them off. You shut your legs instinctively, a harsh slap landing on your thigh as you yelped. “Keep em open sweetheart.”

Your lips were a mix of breathy whines and soft pants as you felt his lips against your thigh, the prickle of his facial hair adding to your desperation as you bucked your hips, his veiny hand landing on your stomach to hold you in place.

You almost screamed in need as you felt his lip against your clit, merely kissing it before you felt his hand touch over it, your heat most likely radiating off of you before two fingers spread you apart, slick clinging to your sex as you let out a muffled whine of humiliation. You were so bare to his eyes, so exposed. You heard him shudder, eyes looking up at you before back down to your pussy, clit throbbing in anticipation.

The guttural sound that escape your mouth when you felt his tongue lick a stripe of your slit was borderline embarrassing as your thighs clamped around his head. Price’s tongue was impetuous as he licked, slurping up whatever he could taste of you as you bucked and whined.

Clammy hands pawed at your tits as he watched your face scrunch up in pleasure, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as he lapped like a madman. You felt him everywhere, the taste of him in your mouth, his hands on your chest and his lips on your wet cunt, eating as if it was his last meal.

You hadn’t felt this good in - ever. It took 24 years of your life and an apocalypse to finally get your pussy ate right.

You mewled at the overwhelming sensation, the coil quickly building up in your belly, aggravated to release as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking, as you nearly screamed in pure ecstasy. You were a sight of pathetic moans, hips greedily grinding against his face as you reached your high.

“Don’t stop, please, don’t stop,” you whined as you felt his tongue dive back down, plunging at your leaking hole, nose rubbing against your sensitive bud as you whined, the overwhelming feeling of him pulling at your nipples sending you into an overdrive as you threw your head back.

Your back arched, head throwing itself back along with your eyes as your legs shook. You could feel your pussy clenching around his tongue as rough skin met your clit, pinching slightly as you squealed, your body wracking with overstimulation.

“That’s it baby, take what you need,” he groaned against your sex, tongue continuing to lap at your newly spilling juices, strings of your slick coating his beard and moustache just like you imagined it that first night.

You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance before you gasped, the stretch of his two fingers (equaling probably 3.. maybe 4 of yours) burned through your body as you felt his other hand moving circles around your twitching clit, the need to orgasm already coaxing through you again at the overstimulation.

His fingers moved slowly, feeling around your gummy walls, searching for your sweet spot before your body jerked. There it was.

It was a continuous movement, rubbing and nudging continuously at the place that had you practically gnawing into your fist. His fingers almost scissoring you open before his mouth latched down again, licking greedily at the flowing slick.

A strings of expletives left your mouth as you gripped his hair, tugging at the roots, your spare hand toying with your own nipples as you watched him fuck you open on his massive digits.

“This what you needed, huh? Needed to be fucked out on someone’s fingers? Did yours make you feel like this baby?” He cooed, tongue lapping lazily against your clit as he watched you shake your head furiously, pants leaving your lips like a dog without water as you chased your second high.

“I’m gonna-“ you began before you practically screamed out, his lips sucking against your clit again, fingers fucking into you at the perfect speed, filling every corner with pure bliss before you were coming again, hips bucking as your legs vibrated against his shoulders, a small line of drool pooling out of your lips as he fingered you through your orgasm.

“Just like that love, such a good fucking girl.” His voice was almost a growl, fingers slowing down as he slurped, his head resting against your thigh as he watched your fucked out expression.

He didn’t stop, his movements only becoming more gentle before you whined, nudging his head away at the overstimulation. You felt empty when he pulled his fingers out as you looked down at your pussy, your clit swollen, the crevice of your ass coated with your slick, a soft pool leaking onto your blankets.

The bed jerked as he got up, the leaky sound of the tap opening almost startling you before he came back. “Open em love,” he murmured as you obliged. The damp towelette soothed you as he wiped you up, cleaning you up before chucking it in the bath. “Can wash that tomorrow,” he hummed before looking at you, still standing.

“Did you want me to le-“

You shook your head, cutting him off. “Need to take you up on that offer of keeping me warm. Is that ok?”

“More than.”

[bandgie]

Good Pup

human!minho x puppy!reader x puppy!seungmin

synopsis: Minho is certain that no matter how much you disagree, your new weredog friend, Kim Seungmin, is not someone he can get along with. However, they have no choice but to team up when your first heat makes its way into the night. Maybe you were right, they do get along, even if it's just a little bit.

7.3k words (damn)

warnings! MDNI 18+, fem!reader, 3some, PIV, no protection, knotting, biting (slight blood), jealousy, bff!minho, coworker!seungmin, double penetration, heat, sex pill, pussy eating, humping (brief), super light mxm themes, minho and seungmin don't like each other

In this world, Minho thinks there are two types of people. And no, it doesn’t have anything to do with what kind of job you work or what your passion is. It doesn’t even matter if you’re a hybrid; the ones mixed with all sorts of animals with human DNA. No, none of those matter to him. People, fully human or not, all boil down to one thing.

Cats or dogs. 

See, Minho likes to think of himself as a cat person. Someone who prefers to have leisure in their own time. Someone who doesn’t need constant stimulation from people or conversations. He’s content with being alone, satisfied even. Maybe Minho doesn’t have a furry tail or pointed ears that flick at the slightest sound unlike the werecats he sees daily, but his human identity doesn't stop him from thinking of himself - or anyone for that fact - as either cat or dog.

Despite living a rather secluded life, Minho doesn’t mind the few friends he keeps close, both human and feline. He does, however, mind dogs like any cat would. They’re too noisy, too needy, and too happy for no god-damn reason. Being surrounded by so much energy drains him quickly, and although Minho likes to think of himself as a lover of all animals, dogs are just… difficult. So you being one of his closest friends is such a mystery to him.

It doesn't matter how many times you’ve seen Minho. Your tail always swishes when you see him approaching, even now through the crowd of people. It wacks the nearby pedestrians walking and you embarrassingly apologize, grabbing your shaggy tail to try and prevent it from moving. And no matter how many times Minho sees you get so giddy just by looking at him, he smiles. 

Just a little bit. 

“You’re gonna kill someone with that thing,” he says once he’s close enough. You roll your eyes at him, the complete opposite of the thumping of your tail in your grasp. “Oh shut up. You made me wait in this heat. I should kill you for that.”

“In front of all these witnesses? You’d make a terrible hitman.” Minho can tell you’re irritated even with your happy tail. Your floppy ears are down, sweat beads on your forehead, and trickles down the sides of your face. The nails on your fingers are darker and sharper than usual. He recalls you complaining about the heat, but the forecast showed cloudy skies. Minho would hardly call it a hot day, not even a warm one.

Something’s up.

But like any cat person, he doesn’t say anything about his observations. “I say we get out of the sun and into the convenience store before you start plotting my murder. I’ll pay.” It’s his way of trying to make you feel better with whatever you’re stressed about. It seems to work by your nodding. Your tail is relaxed enough for you to set it down, using the back of your hand to wipe the perspiration that drips down to your neck. “That sounds good. And you don’t have to worry about tonight. The company’s paying for the dinner and drinks.” That familiar wolfish smile finds your lips, pulling back enough to show pointy canines. 

Minho is always captivated by your mouth. The way it can twist so inhumanely from the plumpness of your lips to the sharpness of your teeth. His eyes lower just for a split second before he says, “Even for me? A plus one?”

“I’ll make sure,” you say with certainty. “They’ve been working me like a dog, no pun intended, and this is their way of making up to everyone busting their ass to make deadlines. If I don’t get my Scooby-snack, I will actually kill someone.”

That sputters a laugh from him. Minho takes his place beside you to begin your journey to the market while giggles keep spilling. “If you’re Scooby, does that make me Shaggy?” There’s still a smile on his face even when you shake your head, following his steps. “Nah. You’re more like Scrappy-Doo.”

-

Okay, there is something definitely wrong with you. Minho is well aware that weredogs enjoy being in close proximity. There have been multiple occasions of your tail tickling his arm, of your skin brushing against his while you walk. Hell, he’s even indulged in kinship by patting your head and letting his fingers caress your ears. It usually doesn’t take much for you to be satisfied with those simple touches, but today you seem…needy.

And it’s not just Minho who notices. Customers, humans and were-creatures alike, see how much you cling to him. The tail that was happily dancing half an hour ago now wraps around his torso. He can feel it against his back and he finds himself enjoying this strange hug. 

Minho would usually say something. Maybe tease you and tell you to keep your tail to yourself, but something tells him that isn't the best idea right now. 

You’re hardly talking. The yapping puppy he’s so familiar with is nowhere to be seen even though you're right next to him. Standing so close that he can feel your body heat that he swears is hotter than usual. 

Maybe he should enjoy the peace and quiet that he rarely gets with you, but Minho is itching for his pup. 

“You okay?”

There, he said it. Minho is so used to you talking without being asked to the point that he covers his ears just to drown out your words. You would whine, ears pulling down while tugging at his arms. “Listen to meee!”

But instead he has to coax it out of you this time. You pull your attention away from the snacks to look at him. “Huh? Yeah no, I’m good. I have been feeling out of it recently but I think it’s just my job. Sorry, am I being boring?”

Reassurance. One of the most common needs for a weredog. To hear that they’re needed with some praise. To put it in simple terms, you want to hear that you’re being a good girl. At this point, Minho is willing to do and say anything to get you back to normal.

“Boring? I never said that. Hanging out with you is the highlight of my week…even if your furry friend keeps smacking my back.” And just like that, your eyes shine with both happiness and embarrassment. You take back control of your tail and scold it, “Stop annoying my friend.” You swat at it gently and push it back down behind you. 

Minho doesn’t even notice his hand reaching out to pet you before he can stop it. His soft palm makes contact with your hair, ruffling it before moving to your ears.

People nearby stare but Minho hardly cares. There’s something about bystanders knowing the reason for your soft rumbling and gleeful expression is because of him. Weird want, but Minho’s heard that weredogs just have that type of effect on people. Plus, Minho’s your friend. Friends are always there to help each other out and Minho just happens to be your best.

It doesn’t take much after that to get you back to your talkative self. 

“Like, I just feel bad, ya know?” You say, reaching for a meaty sandwich in the deli section of the convenience store. “No one talks to him at work and he’s always alone at lunch. Like, yeah he has a scary face and doesn’t talk to anyone, but that doesn’t mean he’s a bad person.” A triple meat sandwich catches your attention and Minho watches your curved nails reach for the packaging. 

Minho inspects the drinks. “Maybe he has that scary face and doesn’t talk to anybody because he doesn’t want to talk to anybody.”

You roll your eyes, adding your find to the small basket looped around Minho’s arm. “Yeah, and I could say the same thing about you.” You poke his broad chest with a nail. The pain is hardly there, but Minho fakes a wounded expression and grabs his pec dramatically. “I'm bleeding!”

“Oh shut up. You’re just trying to change the subject because you know I’m right.”

“Right about what?” Minho ditches his act. “About the fact that I don’t like talking to anybody? Good job, Sherlock.” The good job makes your tail sway just slightly and Minho smiles when he sees it. 

“Oh? Then what are you doing right now with me?” You cross your arms and stare at him.

“Replying.”

“Which is…”

“Communicating.”

“And another word for that is…”

“...Moving my mouth.”

“You’re impossible.” you laugh. “Anywho, he just reminds me of how it was when we first met. You being brooding, quiet and me being awesome, of course.” The two of you venture further down the aisle. “What is it that you once told me? Something about people being dogs and cats?”

“Dogs or cats,” he corrects. “What about it?” Minho abruptly stops his steps when he sees jelly. Despite being human, you can practically see his pupils grow wide at the sight of them. 

“So based on the description I gave you, which do you think he is?”

Minho doesn’t answer immediately, can’t when his favorite dessert is quite literally on display. So many choices, so many flavors. He should buy one of each for taste testing. A couple of seconds go by before he registers your question. “Oh. Um, you said he’s like me?”

You nod, “Mhm.”

“Then cat, obviously.” Minho chooses a coffee and vanilla flavor. He imagines you’ll prefer the coffee one. When he turns to face you, he’s surprised to see that you’re smiling, as if already knowing he was going to say that. 

“But get this,” you hop on one leg to the other in weredog behavior. “He’s a were-dog! Like me! I don’t know what breed but I’ve never met a fellow pup so…cat. You might like him.”

Minho scoffs at your playful wink, “Don’t try setting me up on playdates. I’m fine with the friends I have now.”

You whine, a high-pitched noise coming from the back of your throat. It used to startle Minho, but now he’s grown accustomed to ignoring your complaints until you’re both at the counter emptying the basket. 

The cashier is a young werefox. He has slender eyes that stick out, enhancing his hard jaw and smooth skin. As if tired of the day, the said fox scans the items lazily, saying a standard, "Is that gonna be all?” before shoving the goodies in a black bag. 

“Well, whatever,” you smooth your puppy ears. “He’s gonna be at the dinner tonight, so you’re meeting him regardless.”

For some reason, the fox suddenly looks interested. He picks his head up and looks between Minho and you. He sniffs and jolts. Minho narrows his eyes, subtly tucking his head to his armpit and smelling. Does he stink? Minho’s thinking about changing his body wash when the cashier sniffs again, but his eyes lock on you instead.

In all werefox manner, the cashier shifts his gaze to Minho and gives a sly smile. “These are on the house.” He snatches a package so quickly off the counter that Minho can’t tell what it is as the cashier shoves it inside the bag. The fox slides the purchases to Minho, looking at you once more before winking, “Have fun tonight.”

Minho is quick to get you both out of there. Your ears are up straight, tail hanging loose between your legs while looking back. Since your tail isn’t tucked between your legs or abnormally stiff, Minho thinks he shouldn’t be too worried. But the encounter was strange, no matter how brief. 

“Did you know that guy?” You say once you’re waiting for Minho to unlock his car. 

He shakes his head, “Nah. Let’s just go.”

You don’t argue with that. Your ears flick at the sound of the door unlocking and you quickly find your seat inside the warm car. The image of the cashier crosses your mind and you look at Minho. “What’d he put in the bag?”

But Minho had already tossed the said bag in the backseat. He shrugs, “Don’t know. I’ll check it out when I get home.”

Short sentences, indirect messages to tell you to drop it. Minho is in his cat mood as he ignites the car to life and puts it in reserve. Normally, you’d crack a joke. Saying something to lighten the mood or change the subject, but you’re starting to feel hot all over again. Minho had just put the A/C on, but the warmth of the car has you heating up even more. You feel nauseous and Minho’s human scent plays no aid. Sometimes you get car sick and you’re assuming it’s one of those times. You close your eyes and breathe, telling yourself that you’ll feel better once you get home and take some medication.

It doesn’t matter how sick you are, you have a company dinner tonight that your best friend is attending and you’ll be damned if you missed just because of a little bug.

-

Minho is absolutely not taking his eyes off you tonight and no it’s not because of how good you look. Sure, maybe your button-up shirt stretches at the top because of how tight it is against your chest and yeah, maybe the black pencil skirt does wonders for your ass but those are not any of the reasons why Minho is watching you like a hawk. No, he’s stuck watching how you’re trying your best to pretend like you aren’t on the verge of turning into a puddle of sweat.

Even the other were-dog you mentioned earlier, Kim Seungmin, notices your strange behavior. Minho sees that his ears are up and that his tail swishes unsure. Still, none of that matters from how giddily you seem chatting it up with him. Something about managing to meet deadlines and confusion about the new code in the system, but it’s all white noise to Minho. 

You’re close to Seungmin - a little too close. Minho tells himself over and over that weredogs have an instinct to want to be close, but that doesn’t mean he has to be happy with it. 

It looks like your tails are dancing together as they swish, though yours is more erratic. Seungmin’s eyes travel everywhere and Minho is so close to leaning over you just to push him away. 

“And the new code we have to use?” You groan. “I absolutely hate it.”

“You?” Seungmin challenges. “Hating something? I don’t believe it.”

Minho watches you scoff, watches the color of your face flush. It’s from your fever, he thinks. He hopes. 

Why on Earth would you think he would be able to get along with someone like Seungmin? He was far too quiet when you happily introduced Minho - you’re best friend may he remind you - and didn’t so much as ask what type of job he works. Seungmin may be a cat, but Minho is starting to think he’s beginning to prefer dogs.

The male weredog leans closer to you and Minho straightens. He can hear how deep he inhales before Seungmin turns his head to the side, one ear flopping over. “Are you wearing a new perfume? It smells nice.”

“Oh, thank you.” You turn to your side, finally looking at Minho and smiling at him. His heart squeezes at the sight, how your eyes shine just looking at him. “Minho got it for me a while ago, but I only wear it on special occasions.”

The smirk on Seungmin’s face vanishes once he makes eye contact with Minho. And just like that, the moody expression Minho once wore turns smug. There’s a brief moment between the two men that you don’t see. A dirty look, a sneer, a smirk. It’s such a short interaction that speaks volumes. 

Seungmin may be a dog on the outside, but that deadly look screams cat.

“God, why is it so hot in here?” You fan yourself with a hand, looking between your two friends. “I feel like I’m turning into a swamp.”

Minho glances at other people nearby. Your co-workers are drinking, eating, and talking about anything but how hot it is. Your fever must be getting out of hand and Minho is planning on asking you if you two should leave before Seungmin says, “When did your fever start?”

“Um,” you rub your hands together in an attempt to get yourself to stop feeling so antsy. Minho places a friendly hand on your knee. Nothing he’s never done before to soothe you, but you react as if he’s burned you. It feels like his hand sends shivers throughout your body and you can’t help but jolt. A soft whine leaves your lips, and poor Minho who can’t seem to notice that your distress is from his touch, decides to rub his thumb onto your skin.

What feels like buckets of arousal seep your underwear. You get the sudden urge to hump, a stupid weredog antic that you can never seem to get rid of. Your legs tense and you almost close them in an attempt to get some friction with Minho’s hand before you remember that Seungmin asked you a question. 

“M-maybe a week ago or something? I think I just ate something bad.” But when you look at Seungmin for his response, he isn’t even facing you. His focus is on your lower half, watching with a predatory look in his eyes as Minho gently strokes his thumb on your thigh. Maybe you should feel weird that your co-worker is looking at you in such a way, but it strangely adds to the sensation Minho’s providing. 

Seungmin inhales and groans, too quiet for the chatter of your company to notice but enough for you to accidentally snap your legs closed with Minho’s hand captive. 

Then finally, Seungmin looks up between you and Minho and nods to the front door. 

“Meet me outside.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he grabs his jacket and leaves. A few coworkers complain and question him, but he silences them with a mere glare and a respectful, apologetic bow to his boss.

You and Minho look amongst each other and he carefully slides his hand out from the crease of your thighs. The two of you miss the warmth from the touch, but Minho is a little more concerned with how you’ve started to paw and grasp at his hand to get it back on you.

There was such a sense of urgency in Seungmin’s voice. As much as Minho was irritated with how he was looking at you, there was genuine worry there. It would be easy for you two to ditch Seungmin and leave on your own, but something tells him there’s more than just a stomach bug going on. 

Minho takes his hand in yours, interlocking your fingers. He nearly hisses at how hot your skin is, but you only howl with satisfaction.

He stands, taking you with him, but your boss is quick to stop you from leaving. “Hey! Now where are you two going?” Shit, of course it wouldn’t be as easy to leave. 

“I think she’s had too much to drink, sir.” A lie. You haven’t touched a single drink, but no one here is sober enough to know that. “It would be better to have her sleep it off so she can make it to work tomorrow.”

Minho hopes his excuse is enough and from the belly laugh that your boss gives, he thinks it is. 

“I like the way you think! Make sure you take care of her. We’ve got a big project coming up and I need my best workers.”

A thank you, a quick bow, and Minho is quick to grab your things and lead you outside. To his luck, you play the drunk girl perfectly. Your full weight is on his shoulder that you’re leaning on, breathing into his neck and trying to nip his skin.Your tail is so out of control that you whack him and you as Minho walks to Seungmin. 

No, this isn’t a fever. 

And Seungmin is quick to confirm that the moment he sees how much you’re clinging onto Minho. He covers his mouth and nose with his hand. “Fuck. Your heat's getting bad. Why the fuck did you come in the condition?”

“I-I…no! Seung, I’m not. I can’t.” That seems to snap you out of your trance enough to answer him, but not enough to separate yourself from Minho. 

“Heat?” Minho looks at you questioningly. Didn’t you tell me the doctors said you that your animal DNA is too small for heat periods?” Which he believed without question. Minho has known you for years and you’ve never had a heat in that time. Not so much as a story to tell or any suppressors he’s seen.

You look like you’re about to cry even with the hazy look in your eye. “They did! It’s way too late for me to experience my first heat. I’m just sick.”

Seungmin scoffs. “Sick? I don’t think so. Listen, the point is, you need to leave. I don’t mean to sound like a dick, but you’re going to attract were-males with your pheromones.” He looks around protectively and then back at you, putting his hand down. “Okay, I don’t mean to come off weird, but do you think you can…handle it on your own?”

There’s a silence between the three of you. Minho blinks rapidly. Did he hear that right? Is Seungmin, this man he just met tonight, really asking to hook up with you? In front of him? Your best friend?

He must have a death wish. “What the fuck are you saying, man?”

Seungmin averts his gaze to the other male. “Was I talking to you?”

“Seungmin!” You scold.

“Nah, you don’t get it, human. She’s in heat. You’re not going to be able to properly calm her down, or worse, she’s gonna go into a frenzy because you can’t.”

This is exactly why Minho can’t stand weredogs. They’re too obsessed with something that’s not even theirs. “And you think just ‘cuz you’re a dog you can? You don’t know me and you don’t know her. Get your snout out of our business.” Minho pulls you closer. “We’re leaving, let’s go.”

He only manages to get a few steps away before Seungmin spins him around. Being so close to him, Minho realizes he’s taller, but not by much. The ears add the illusion of extra height. It’s the piercing gaze, however, that makes Minho feel small. “Tell me, Minho, have you ever been with a were-female?”

“That’s none of your business. Fuck off.”

“I’ll go ahead and give you the benefit of the doubt and say sure, maybe you have once or twice. But have you ever been with one during their heat? During their first heat? Do you know what a weredog even does in heat? What they need? For fuck's sake, your stupid nose can’t even tell the difference from last week to this week.”

Seungmin takes a step closer until his chest is almost touching Minho’s. So close that you can smell how your heat is affecting him. 

“I’m not doing this for a quick fuck and I’m sure as hell not doing it for you. Despite what your little human brain might think, I care. I care enough to make sure that she’ll go home safely and get properly taken care of. I’m not thinking of myself, unlike someone.”

It feels like a slap on the cheek. Minho’s jaw is so clenched that his teeth begin to ache. He wants to tell Seungmin that he doesn’t know what he’s talking about, that he’s wrong - but shit, is he really? Minho isn’t well-versed in weredogs outside of friendships and the hookups he had were all feline or human. It hurts to admit, but he doesn’t know. Minho doesn’t even know what to do with you still clinging onto him and dipping your hands up his shirt to feel his skin.

Fuuuck this.

Minho lets out a deep sigh, almost as if it hurts him to say, “You're not getting in my car. Just follow behind.”

And follow Seungmin does. On the road driving far too fast the speed limit, on the sidewalk leading up to Minho’s house, to the front door that you wobble to, up the stairs that inevitably lead to Minho’s room that you barge into. 

The bed is the first thing you go to. Neither of the men have a chance to lay down any ground rules before you bury yourself between the sheets. Minho stares as you inhale his blanket, grabbing his pillow and biting down on it with your canines. It only takes a second before you roll onto your stomach and grind on it, effectively humping his favorite pillow.

No, he isn’t staring anymore, he’s gawking. Minho nearly flinches at the amount of drool his poor pillow has to endure. 

“Are you just gonna stand there or what?” Seungmin rasps out. The voice breaks Minho’s attention, and although he knows the weredog beside him is male, he still jumps at the sight. 

Seungmin is full of want. His ears are up straight, his tail swishes as if he’s watching a prey, his teeth are bared with a hint of saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, and if Minho looks down, he could see the outline of a bulging- 

“Mmm sorry,” you whine. “Smells so good. Min’ smells so good.” Your hips press up and down deeply, getting that nice friction on your clothed cunt. It looks cute, strangely, to see how desperate you are for a release. Minho would have liked to enjoy the scene longer if it wasn’t for Seungmin losing his patience. It takes a mere three strides for Seungmin’s long legs to reach you, his eyes pupils blown wide.

Within a second, Minho is beside him.

“Don’t get any-”

“Praise her,” Seungmin chokes out. “Pet her, touch her, fuck! Just do something. I’m going crazy.” He forces himself to back away from you, opting to pace around Minho’s room, trying to look for anything to distract himself from the rut he’s about to go in. Seungmin reaches for the bottom of his shirt and begins to hastily undress. He doesn’t even spare a glance at the human when he says, “Get her undressed. Weredogs need skin contact during their heat.”

Easier said than done. You’re clawing Minho’s skin affectionately and reaching for his belt. He feels like he’s wrestling you if he ignores his boner. He manages to unbutton your top, shaky hands reaching back to unclasp your bra but you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him close. Your legs wrap around his torso and bring him in, his cock to your cunt through the many layers of clothes.

“No, takes too long. Just put it in me. I’m so wet already.”

Your voice is a whisper in his ear. Minho realizes it’s because you don’t want Seungmin to hear. To sweeten the deal, you grind on his crotch. Minho’s knees are fully on the bed, giving you a much better angle to hump him instead. 

You let out the smallest whine. The tiniest sound of pleasure from something other than masturbating, but Seungmin hears it. He whips his head quickly and rushes to you two with a small package in his hand. 

Minho’s able to make it out when he gets closer. It’s from when you and him went to the convenience store earlier. When the fox cashier shot his sly smile and said, These are on the house. Have fun tonight. 

“I don’t even want to know where you got these pills,” Seungmin tosses the package to Minho. “Take it now. It should have an effect within 5 minutes.”

Knot Cock! The package reads. INSTRUCTIONS: take 5-10 minutes prior to intercourse with weredog. Do not mix with other genitalia-morphing pills. drowsiness and mild pain are- 

“Jesus fuck,” Seungmin moans. “Your pussy smells so good.”

Minho rips the package open and discards the warnings. He can read it later. Right now, he’s focused on dry swallowing the pill, finally removing his clothes, and helping Seungmin take off your skirt. 

Strings of arousal stick to your underwear as the material goes down your legs. You whine at the cold air, but Seungmin is quick to reassure you. “Good. Good. You’re doing such a good job. I’m almost done, baby.”

A scowl appears on Minho’s expression when he glances at Seungmin. It’s hard to just look at his face when the two men are naked. It’s far too easy to notice the flush in Seungmin’s chest and cock. How different, yet similar, it looks to his own. 

They’re doing this together, why is he taking all the credit? He’s not even supposed to be here, he’s just helping. “I got you,” Minho emphasizes. He places his hand on your bare thighs and gently spreads them apart. 

In all its glory, your cunt shines with arousal. For a brief moment, the men stare. There’s no arguing with your pussy doing all the talking, wetness seeping through your folds as if it’s crying. It’s only seconds they take time drooling over you, but too many seconds too long. You impatiently reach your hand down and spread your lower lips, using your other hand to rub your fluttering hole.

“Please, pleaseplease-”

Seungmin moves first, much to Minho’s displeasure. A growl emits from his chest as Seungmin peels your hands away from your cunt. Saliva drips down his chin - down his neck. Minho thinks he might eat you, but Seungmin opts to devour your cunt.

The sound that leaves you is more of a howl than a moan. A noise of appreciation and pleasure at every swipe of his tongue. Seungmin’s throat vibrates with his grunts, it bobs with every gulp. You thread one hand into his hair and the other entwines with Minho’s fingers. Minho can’t tell if he’s squeezing your hand or if you're squeezing his, but it doesn’t matter. Not when a foreign haze begins to take hold of his senses, a pressure in his cock he’s never felt before. 

Minho tears his gaze from Seungmin eating you out to see his cock enlarged. He’s never seen it so big and red. He’s especially never had a ring at the base, a near-identical state of Seungmin’s. The shock almost distracts him from the urge he’s getting - the urge to push Seungmin aside, to have you close to him in every and any way possible. 

Crap, the pill is working a lot better than Minho would have guessed. 

To try and fight the effects, Minho leans down to get a taste of your cunt. The scent of you grows stronger, but Minho isn’t able to get his lick in when Seungmin pulls away to growl at him. Much to Minho’s horror, he growls back. The men bare their teeth, a clear sign of intimidation and Minho doesn’t back away from even with Seungmin’s sharp canines. 

You, however, notice the clash of pheromones. You hear the snarls loud enough to pick your head up and focus your dilated pupils. Roughly, you move your hands to grip the back of their heads and force them into your cunt. They bonk their foreheads slightly, a soft whine coming from Seungmin and a final snarl from Minho before they succumb to your taste. 

They can’t notice how their tongues mix and clash, or maybe they do, but sucking on your clit outweighs the fact. You can’t find yourself to care when their tongues move as if they’re fighting. One muscle pushes the other out of the way just for it to do it back. It’s almost cute if it was in any other situation, but you still smile and moan when one tongue flicks your clit.

Without needing to speak to each other, the men silently agree to move together to hear you again. Starting towards the bottom of your clit, Minho and Seungmin glide up. You tremble and squeal when the tips of their tongue continuously flick at your bud, but they graciously dip back down. Looking at how they suck your clit only amplifies the feeling of pleasure, but you can’t look away. It’s a hypnotic sight, watching their tongues lap up and down, watching the saliva spread to your thighs and pelvis from how much they lick. 

You could cum just like this, looking into their eyes with your cunt in their mouth, but you don’t want to finish like that. Your heat makes it so that it feels painful to be empty no matter how their tongues tease your entrance. The only thing you need to be satisfied is to be full. So full of cum that it leaks for weeks after. To be stuffed and properly bred into with any male. They may have fought in the beginning, but you’re beyond elated for your first heat to be with them.

It’s far too hard to use words, not when you're panting and moaning with every lick, but you manage to get out small, nonono’s that make Seungmin’s ears perk up. Minho takes the opportunity to fully be on your cunt, sucking and dragging his tongue while Seungmin paws up to you.

He doesn’t have to ask, his eyes say it all with the worry and arousal in them.

“Fuck me.” Gosh, you’ve never been so direct before. “No more licking just please. It hurts.” You place a hand on your stomach, emphasizing the emptiness. “Wanna be full.”

Minho swears when Seungmin rips his head from your cunt. He;’s forced off with Seungmin’s fingers in his hair. Minho might have snarled again, but he heard your begging. Heard how the two of them eating you out did little to help your heat. It was only a matter of time before either of them was inside you, but the real question is who. Maybe Minho would have been more open, thinking more logically, about letting Seungmin go first, but the drug in his system makes it so the most important thing is having you to himself. 

The look Minho gives Seungmin is deadly. “I’m going first.”

Seungmin doesn’t so much as acknowledge his words - can’t when he’s already stroking his cock and balancing himself on his knees. Minho hates how he succumbs to the drug, shoving Seungmin so hard that he nearly falls off the bed. “I said -” But Seungmin doesn’t let Minho finish, interrupting the older male with a just-as-hard push.

“Stop,” you all but whisper. They look at you and the expression on your face makes them obey, save for the teeth. “I…I want both. Can’t I have both?”

Is that even possible? Minho can only imagine how difficult it would be to take two cocks, let alone knots that will surely have your pussy expanding. It seems like Seungmin is thinking the same thing based on his confused expression, but his rut makes him just as clueless as Minho.

The men look at each other, eyes clear for the first time in a while. No words are needed to come to a silent agreement. Minho tucks himself between you and the bed, flipping you the other way until you’re chest-to-chest with your best friend. Seungmin stays on his knees on the bed, his cock pointed at your entrance. It takes a bit more adjusting before you’re nicely sandwiched between the two and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Their scent covers you perfectly with their skin on every inch of yours. 

You’ve never gotten the experience to nest, but you assume it feels something like this.

Minho’s erection sits between your thighs, hot and heavy. You should feel weird, gross even, having your closest friend getting ready to fuck you. That feeling never happens. Not even as you lift your hips for Minho to grab his cock and angle it towards your cunt.

“Tell me-” He moans when you slide your cunt against his tip. “T-tell me if it hurts.”

You would have laughed if you could. Feeling genuine pain seems impossible in your state, but you nod anyway. 

Minho doesn’t waste time rubbing his dick on your cunt. His cock is throbbing so painfully that the only relief is sinking into you.

Inch by inch, he enters. The tip flares more than it normally would, not that you would know, and the stretch has you whining into his chest. His scent calms you and you suck on his skin to further soothe yourself. Minho isn’t going as slow as he wants to. He’s trying to open you up gently, but your cunt is so warm, so soft, that he can’t help himself from fucking into you until his artificial knot prevents him from going deeper.

Veins bulge from Minho’s neck. He’s never had sex like this - he’s never had such an urge to claim, to breed. His cock is unbelievably sensitive and your pussy feels like heaven. He groans, hands going to your ass to squeeze the pulp flesh. 

It’s then that he feels a different set of hands that he’s reminded of the actual male were-dog. “I’m in. You can-”

Seungmin, who’s been patiently sitting, pushes into you without any further instruction. The intrusion makes you yip from surprise. Minho’s ears pick up on the sound and a sense of inhumane protection overcomes him. He thinks you’re in pain from the small howl, but you moan almost immediately after. Seungmin thrusts into you much quicker, much faster than Minho had initially. 

“Finally.” It sounds guttural from Seungmin’s throat. “Been waiting forever.”

Unlike Minho, who at least tries to savor the feeling of your walls wrapped around his cock, Seungmin ruts into you. The force of his thrusts makes you rock against Minho’s length. You let out little squeals and whimpers with every move right into Minho’s ear. If he wanted, Minho could finish just like this. With Seungmin’s cock rubbing against his own and your pussy moving just enough for some friction.

But Minho doesn’t want to just cum.

He wants to carve himself in you. To make his mark in the deepest part of you. Minho places his feet flat on the bed to properly thrust. It only takes one time to have you biting down his chest, your sharp teeth digging painfully into his skin. 

“Fuck!” Minho’s flesh tastes of salt and desire. “Fuuuuck…”

Seungmin puts his hands on your lower back, causing you to arch at just the right angle for their tips to kiss your cervix. They buck up into you with different tempos, one going in while the other goes out. It’s an endless feeling of being filled. You swear you can feel them touching the back of your throat with how deep they are.

Distantly, you can feel the wetness of Seungmin’s drool dripping onto your ass. Pulling your teeth from Minho’s chest, you turn back to see just as you thought. Seungmin’s eyes are blown wide, tail stiff and pointed upwards with his flat tongue hanging out. He probably doesn’t even notice the mess he’s making on your back with his eyes locked where you three connect.

Minho groans at the welt from the wound you’ve left, but the pain is quickly forgotten at your tightening walls. He's astonished, truthfully, at how much your cunt can open. How eager it is to be pumped and used until it’s satisfied. Words can’t seem to leave him though, he can’t tell you how much he loves feeling your cunt and Seungmin’s cock working together. 

No, instead, the noises he’s making are eerily similar to Seungmin. To try and quiet himself, Minho buries his face into your neck. He licks and sucks the skin there, gripping your ass harder as he manages to finally match his pace with the were-dog.

With your scent (and with the help of the pill) he understands why you bit him. What better way to claim you than both on the inside and outside? His teeth graze the sensitive part of your neck. You whine, lifting your neck higher to allow Minho better access. It’s not as easy to do with your body jolting from their thrusts, but Seungmin is quick to help.

He uses a hand to grip your hair, lifting you so high that your chest completely lifts from Minho’s. You whimper at the sudden movement, but the men are quick to kiss each side of your throat in apology. The new angle has you gushing overwhelmingly. Minho might have to buy a new mattress entirely.

“Feel that?” Seungmin glances at Minho. “Feel that pussy clenching?”

Minho can’t find the will to pull his lips away from you, so he looks back at Seungmin in acknowledgment. 

“That’s her telling us to cum in it. Ready to be bred like a good pup, huh?” He shakes his fist with your hair in his hand. 

You let him wiggle your head, nodding along with the movements. Seungmin grunts with approval and keeps your neck bare to them. Their movements grow sloppy, suddenly unable to keep a solid rhythm with their cocks pushing deeper and deeper until you know it’s only a matter of time before their knots fill you. You feel your saliva drip down your chin and Minho is gracious enough to kiss the drool away. 

Seungmin’s claws dig into your back and scalp and Minho’s blunt nails squeeze the flesh of your ass. They snarl, though this time, it’s far from how it was before. 

“Shit. How are you still so tight with two cocks in you?” Minho grunts out. His teeth nip your throat and Seungmin mimics on the other side. “So close, pup.” Seungmin sucks harshly on your bruising flesh. “Gonna take our knots so good.”

“So good,” you confirm. “Give it to me. Min’... Seung’. I need it.”

It’s in unison that they bite you. Minho’s dull teeth hurt compared to Seungmin’s pointed canines, but the stinging on your neck is nothing compared to the stretch between your legs when they force their knots in. You nearly scream from the intrusion, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you finally, finally cum with every cell in your body.

Your cunt expands with the spurts of cum from their cocks. It’s impossible for anything to drip out of your cunt, their dicks are perfectly made to ensure your pussy swallows everything. Their growls are loud in your ears, possessive and satisfied with their knot being buried in you. Minho is first to pull his teeth away from you, licking the mark better until he moves to a different spot to suck. Seungmin, on the other hand, opts to bite harder, ensuring his teeth will leave marks you’ll have to cover up. It’s not until he tastes the familiar metallic tang that he pulls away and pacifies the sting with his lips.

Seungmin releases his grip and you collapse on Minho’s chest. The men give shallow thrusts to further guarantee that you’re stuffed before you whine and twitch. Their hands soothe your body to coax you further into relaxation. 

Minutes pass by before Minho thinks he’s ready to move. He tries to pull his cock out, but he’s met with resistance as if his dick and your pussy are actually molded together…with Seungmin’s, unfortunately. 

You bark out a cry from pain - not the good kind - and Seungmin growls with annoyance.

“What the fuck?” Minho looks bewildered. His confused eyes find Seungmin’s. “Why can’t I move?” You’d laugh if you weren’t so fucked out, or if the throbbing between your legs was bearable. Seungmin clicks his tongue and laughs colorlessly. “Cuz we’re knotted, pretty boy. You’re gonna be stuck with me for a while. Literally.”

[animasola86]

🐺 A KNOT TO REMEMBER

m!werewolf x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 7.6k

In search of some fresh air, you stumble through a beautifully arranged garden. The full moon shows the path, or so you think, until you find yourself face-to-face with something very large and very hairy.

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Werewolves! Abduction! Dubcon? Knotting! Breeding! Cum inflation! Fluff? (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part 4 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7 This is OPTION 3 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene.

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and on your search for the bathroom, you come to a long hallway full of doors, and you decide to go through the door at the end of it, thinking some fresh air would be preferable now.

When you walk through the door, a cold breeze passes by you, making you rub your exposed arms. It's been a mild October thus far, so you didn't bring a jacket. All you have is the red cape that gives your costume its name. Pulling it around your shoulders, you follow the short hallway to another set of doors that lead you straight outside. The fresh air is numbing, but also strangely clearing, and the deeper you inhale, the steadier you feel.

The full moon stands high in the sky, illuminating a beautiful garden before you. You see rows of neatly trimmed hedges, large flower pots and other intricately laid out plant arrangements fit for the season, broken up by either a bench or a little lamp casting additional light into the dark night, with a narrow gravel path snaking through the vast grounds.

You decide to walk off the strange feeling in your guts. With your hood over your head, you quickly feel warmer again. The low thump of the music from the house quiets down with every step you take away from it, deeper into the garden. Soon you find yourself in the middle of a maze, with hedges too high to look over, and paths just wide enough to walk through comfortably. A sinking feeling grips you as you keep walking, but everything looks the same.

Quickening your steps, you feel your heart beating harder in your chest. Good idea to walk through a maze in the freaking dark, you scold yourself, but before you can think of a clever retort, you suddenly hear a strange howling noise, seemingly far away, probably past the forest surrounding the house. It still makes your blood run cold. You stop in your tracks, listening hard, but all you can hear is your own rapid heartbeat and the gentle swish of the wind through the leaves around you, there are no animal sounds, no owls hooting, no insects chirping, no critters running about.

Just eerie silence – until another howl cuts through the night, making you gasp. This time it's much closer, louder, and without even thinking, you turn around, trying to run back to the house, knowing you shouldn't be out here in the first place. Your flight instinct is cut short when you run blindly into... something. Something solid, big, warm...

Stumbling back, you look up with wide eyes, panting heavily, and when you see what you ran into, you freeze, holding your breath, shock settling into your limbs. It's a wolf. As tall as a man. Wait, it is a man, he's standing on his hind legs, but he's got the head of a wolf, with a long snout, sharp eyes and teeth, fluffy ears and all a wolf would have, but below his wide shoulders he may just be a very hairy man, muscular, bulky even, despite the rough looking dark fur covering every inch of his massive body, very intimidating, and he also has a long bushy tail swishing lazily behind him. When he speaks, which surprises you, his voice rumbles through the air like thunder.

“Are you lost, little girl?” he asks, tilting his large head.

You stare up at him with your lips parted, too dumbstruck to process anything. “I... uh... yeah,” you mumble, eyes scanning the large figure in front of you frantically. He really is very hairy, hairy enough he doesn't even need clothes you notice. “I think... I mean... the house is right there, isn't it?”

The wolf man turns around before a low chuckle escapes him. “Not quite. You went a little too far, didn't you, Little Red?”

You blink at the nickname, but then remember your costume – and your initial disappointment that there hasn't been any wolf at the party to match your freak. Well, now you've found him, or he you. And his costume is impressive. Might just be one of those fur suits, one of the more realistic looking ones, because the way he stares down at you almost feels a little too realistic. It's not a mask, is it? But it probably is, it has to be. The alternative would mean he is a real werewolf, and you know that those things don't exist.

Right?

Swallowing hard, you take a cautious step backwards. He moves with you, his imposing body getting closer again, threateningly. You let out a scared little whimper.

“Oh, don't be afraid, little one. I won't hurt you. Not too much anyway,” he adds with a low growl that might have been a laugh. You don't feel like laughing back.

“A-are you –” you stammer, your shoulders shaking with how frantic your chest rises and falls. “A... a... you know... a werewolf?”

He tilts his head again, putting his large hands (paws?) onto his hairy hips as he watches you curiously. “What do you think?” he rumbles, licking his long tongue around his muzzle, showing off razor sharp teeth that gleam in the moonlight. Nope. That's not a mask. This is fucking real.

“Oh God!” you cry out, and in your panic you turn around and run, nothing but terror pulsing through your body as you stumble headlessly through the darkness, away from whatever monster you just encountered. In your haste to round another corner of the maze, your cape gets caught by some thorns, ripping right off you, but you keep running, fleeing into the night.

“He won't help you here,” you hear the deep voice behind you, rapid footsteps following you before you feel a rush of air that knocks you right over. Or rather it's the wolf jumping onto your back, crashing you into the hard ground beneath you. You scream in shock, the pain only registering a few seconds later when you feel your knees scraping open and your palms rubbing over rough gravel.

You squirm in desperation, wailing helplessly beneath him. His hot breath hits your nape, and you freeze immediately, stiffening in fear. He sniffs your hair, and then you feel something warm and wet along the side of your neck. He's licking you, coaxing a sorrowful whine out of your throat.

“Shh, it's alright, little one. Don't be scared. No need to run from me. Wouldn't you say we were destined to meet?” His voice vibrates through you as he presses his snout against the side of your head while his large hands rub along your sides, his strong thighs bracketing your hips, his weight pushing you deeper into the ground. “My little Red Riding Hood...” he continues, poking his wet nose against your cheek. “Weren't you looking for your wolf too?”

You can only wail pathetically, too panicked to consider his words. “Please... no...”

He huffs a warm breath against your skin. “Well, it can't be helped. Fate brought us together. You are mine now,” he says in his deep voice, and suddenly he moves back, off your body, giving you a moment to breathe, but only so long before he grips you around the waist and throws you over his hairy shoulder. At first you're too shocked, then you start squirming and struggling in his hold, gripping his fur, slapping his broad back, kicking your feet. But it feels hopeless. He is just too big, too strong, holding your thighs together with only one hand.

A deep sigh sounds from him as he walks you further into the darkness, ignoring your weak attempts to fight back. Eventually you go limp in his hold, hanging upside down as you do, quickly feeling all the blood rushing into your head, adding to the nausea you felt earlier. Your fingers dig into his pelt, and you're surprised to find it rather soft. Not as rugged as it initially looked.

It doesn't help much to focus on the texture of his fur when you suddenly feel a change in elevation as he carries you down a set of stairs. Then your world is spinning once more when he pulls you off his shoulder, unceremoniously throwing you onto the ground. You land hard, with all the air being pushed out of your lungs, groaning as you roll onto your side, raspy breaths rattling in your tight throat. Before you can take a look around, something drapes over your head.

You cry out, frantically gripping whatever fabric is blocking your vision, only to find it's your red cloak. Staring at it after you've pulled it off your head, you frown.

“Put it on,” the large wolf man tells you in his gruff voice, and you frown even more. “And ditch the rest of your clothes.”

“What?” you gasp out and sit up quickly, looking at him with wide eyes, your heart beating faster.

“Do it yourself or I'll rip them off for you,” he replies, glaring down at you.

“W-why?” you stammer, hugging the cloak to your chest protectively.

An exasperated grunt escapes him. “Why do you think? It's the full moon, and that means one of two things: one, I either find a victim to eat... or two, one to eat out and fuck senseless. I figured you'd prefer the second option.”

Your lips part in a mixture of indignation and shock. Confusion is in there too. You should have known it would come to this, why else would he have carried you away, into his lair presumably, definitely not to talk. He told you not to be scared, but that was probably just a ploy to calm you down some. You are now far from it as hysteria grows within your fluttering stomach.

It's not necessarily the prospect of sex with a stranger, but this guy is a freaking wolf. A werewolf. An animal. Isn't that bestiality or something? And don't werewolves have special... cocks? You feel your cheeks warming up badly as your mind wanders, as do your eyes, lower down his large body, but before you can look for any genitalia between all that fur, you huff a grunt and look away, shaking your head.

“Hmm, you wanna make this difficult, little one?” he growls, slowly stalking closer until he's crouching in front of you, his large hands finding your shoulders, his claws pressing threateningly against your skin. “You should consider yourself lucky I think you're too cute to eat.”

You look back at him, into those dark eyes, his long snout so close to your face you can feel the warm breath on your chin. A shiver crashes through you, and to your biggest embarrassment, there's a throb between your legs, a familiar warmth settling in your core. You press your lips into a thin line and avert your eyes again. He exhales against your face.

“Well?” he huffs.

“You... you're a wolf...” you mumble in response, squirming in his hold. “How... how's that gonna work?”

His laugh catches you off guard. “Oh, little one, don't worry. I still have all the hardware needed for this, trust me. I bet you'll enjoy it more than you think...”

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you blink slowly before focusing your eyes on his large head once more. You have to give it to him. He could have just taken you, taken what he wanted, ripped your clothes off and pounded into you like the feral beast he is, but he actually seems to ask for your consent in a way, or at least gives you time to consider it, which only adds to your confusion. The worst thing about it, is that your body already knows the answer.

He suddenly moves his snout, pressing his wet nose against your neck and sniffs, and you feel both ashamed and angry with yourself that he can probably smell your arousal as well. In an attempt to distract him from it, your hands shoot up as you dig your fingers into the thick fur of his chest, trying to push him away. He leans back and watches you curiously. You're breathing harder as you face him and the things that are bound to happen.

You can't fight him, he's too strong. From what you can see, he's brought you into some kind of basement and probably locked you in as well. There's no use trying to escape. You are here now, in his clutches, and he may be a werewolf with werewolf anatomy, but he's also talking and when you ignore the large wolf head, you can try to convince your mind that he's just a very hairy man.

And you did come to this party to let loose, to enjoy yourself, to experience an adventure. You had no idea it would turn into a sex adventure, but here you are. And if the alternative is being eaten alive by a monster, than what are you waiting for? Inhaling deeply, you let go of him and move your shaking hands to the buttons of your blouse, slowly undoing one by one as you keep him in your sight, while your heart beats faster with every inch of skin you expose to him.

He leans back on his haunches, his snout seemingly morphing into a wide smile. “What a good girl,” he growls, licking his sharp teeth.

You swallow hard as you continue to strip for him, until your chest is bare and you fidget to get your skirt over your hips in your sitting position. A yelp escapes you as he suddenly grabs your waist and pulls you up, lifting you effortlessly as he stands up to his full height, holding you in front of him like a frightened kitten with your feet dangling in the air. You don't fight it anymore, you just look up at him, blushing as you notice his hungry stare wandering up and down your naked body.

He sets you to the ground again, gentler this time, then leans down to grab the cape and slowly drapes it around your shoulders, his large hands/paws fumbling to try to bind the string into a loop. You reach up, your small hands brushing against his furry digits, before you fasten the bow yourself, keeping the cloak from sliding down again. It does give you a bit of security, even though it leaves your front fully exposed to him. You should probably feel worse about this, but despite a heavy blush creeping down your chest, you try to remain as still as you can, forcing yourself to play along, not wanting to provoke him into eating you after all.

He huffs a satisfied grunt before he grabs you again and lifts you onto his arms. You hold onto his furry shoulders as you gasp softly from the sudden motion. Breathing harder, you focus on him instead of your surroundings, it would only make you want to find an escape route if you knew where he was taking you. First you have to finish this, satisfy the beast, and once he's sated and done with you, hopefully too exhausted to follow you, you could try to sneak away. That is the plan anyway.

You just hope you won't enjoy your predicament too much.

His heavy footsteps echo through the basement, and before you know it, he's throwing you down again, a little bit gentler and this time onto a softer surface, not a bed, but an assortment of thick blankets and pelts on the floor. There's even some straw beneath it all. Primitive, as you would expect from a beast snatching up random women in the night. Even though you may not have been as random as you think.

Fumbling to untangle the cape that got caught around your neck, you look towards him as he stalks closer, bent over like the monster he is, an imposing figure, a terrifying sight that makes goosebumps ripple over your exposed skin. When he suddenly prances forward, you yelp in surprise, trying to scoot back, but his large hands find your thighs, pinning you down and spreading your legs, and with your mind still reeling, you don't even have time to comprehend his next move until you feel his hot breath right against your center.

“No... wait...” you wail quietly, your hands shoving at his large head, but he doesn't budge, and when he opens his large maw and extends his long tongue, you watch him in both terror and with a strange fascination before a deep moan is ripped from your throat as you feel that same tongue lapping along your slit, parting your folds with a strength that makes you throw your head back. “Oh...”

Your fingers dig into the fabric of your cloak that's fanned out around you as you start bucking your hips up, a motion you didn't plan, it just happened, a reflex, a response to the urges boiling within you. It should feel strange to have this beast devour you like this, in a way you never expected, but it also feels too good to fight it anymore. His tongue is hot and wet and large enough to lick up your entire sex, all the way from your puckered hole to your throbbing clit. A single swipe leaves you absolutely breathless, writhing at the edge of pleasure.

He sure knows what he's doing.

And he keeps doing it until you dissolve into nothing but a mewling mess, a puddle of boneless limbs on the makeshift bed, moaning and gasping as the sensations crash through your nerves. On the peak of your orgasm he starts moving his tongue differently, pushes deeper between your folds, and before you know it you can feel it slipping into your clenching cunt, coaxing a strangled squeak out of you.

You hear and feel him huffing against you, low grunts that vibrate through your entire body, enhancing the feeling of his warm snout between your trembling legs. He moves the muscle deeper, laps at your squishy walls, presses into every crevasse he can reach, and all you can do is tilt your hips and contort before him, riding out the most intense orgasm you may have ever had. Most special one also.

Despite your mind turning into mush, filling up with cotton, you still wonder if this may just be a dream. The strangest one for sure, but still a dream. No way could you be eaten out by an actual werewolf. But when he keeps doing what he does, you soon stop caring and just enjoy the feeling. Doesn't matter. You're in for the ride now.

You don't know how many orgasms he pulls from you until he finally leans back and extracts his tongue from inside you. You barely feel it when he laps up your juices, grunting as he does so, but the moment he crawls over you, more of his big body pressing you into the blankets, you blink your eyes into focus and stare up at him, noticing how wet his muzzle looks. You feel your cheeks burning up. Somehow you have the urge to reach your hands up and pat his long snout, and you do, carefully stroking the rough fur all the way to his pointy ears, and he even hums deeply when you scratch him behind them.

A dumb little smile grazes your lips, and for a moment you wish he'd be a real man so you could kiss him, share the feeling of joy reverberating through your insides, but he has the head of a wolf and despite your blissed-out state you don't want to come into close contact with those sharp teeth. How he kept them away from your sensitive skin is still a mystery to you, but also nothing you seem to worry too much about.

He gives you a wide lick in response, his languid tongue stroke reaching from your chin all the way to your eyebrow, and you giggle and try to turn your head away, swatting at his head before wiping at the slobber on your skin. A growl like a laugh echoes from him before he shifts on top of you, strong arms braced on either side of your shoulders, his knees bracketed around your hips as he crouches over you, his shins pressing down on your wide open legs. The rough fur of his stomach rubs against your body, sending shivers down your spine.

“Look at it,” he tells you in a deep rumble, and you blink in confusion before your eyes move lower, and you see it.

It being his cock. It's huge. Bright red with a tapered tip and the hint of a bulbous protrusion near the base, fully unsheathed from within his furry groin as it lies hot and heavy on your fluttering stomach, reaching all the way up to your ribs. You swallow dryly at the sight of it. Too big. It'll never fit. Your eyes move back up to his face, and you can't help it, you shake your head no as tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

He tilts his head, opening his maw to bare his teeth as he growls low in his throat. “You will take it. You were meant for it. You'll see,” he hisses darkly, nudging his wet nose against your chin before he starts lapping at your wet cheeks as the dam breaks and you realize you may have bitten off more than you can chew. “Shh, don't cry. You'll love it, I'm sure,” he continues between licking at your face, slowly moving his snout lower, teasing down your neck until you feel his hot breath on your quivering breasts. “And I will make it fit, trust me.”

You're not sure that's a good thing. But you can't do anything against it now. You are trapped beneath him. Breathing harder, your chest moving rapidly against his relentless tongue as he laps around your hardening nipples, you try to relax under his ministrations, lying back, closing your eyes, white-knuckling the blanket. He shifts on top of you, keeping his maw near your chest as he lines his hips up with yours.

You feel one of his furry hands slipping between your legs, rubbing over your puffy labia, spreading them, coaxing a quiet moan out of you as one clawed finger dips into your hole. Your eyes flutter open again. He looks up then, watching you out of these black eyes, so intense he seems to stare right into your soul, and when he retrieves his finger, you notice out of the corner of your eye how he grips his big cock, strokes it slowly, before pressing its pointy tip between your folds.

You hold your breath, trying to relax while also bracing for his penetration, your muscles already confused as they are. He pushes in then, slowly, almost carefully, and you feel the stretch as soon as his tip disappears inside you. A groan escapes you when he rolls his hips against you, and more and more of his large cock presses into your tight channel, bullying his way deeper. You're whimpering under his scrutinizing gaze as he watches you closely, seemingly looking for any sign of distress, even though he also doesn't seem to mind it too much as you gasp and yelp in pain whenever he forces another inch into you.

His hands circle your head as he leans over you, his wet nose rubbing at your neck. “You're doing great, little Red,” he huffs into your skin, keeping that slow and steady rhythm of moving his pelvis back and forth. “You can do this. You were made for this.”

You wail in response, turning your head to the side, exposing your neck to him, but also to look away from the beast ravaging you. If you focus your mind on the feel, you can almost imagine being fucked by a very bulky man with a very thick and veiny cock, and the thought makes it a little easier. Squeezing your eyes shut as he squeezes the last inches (or so you hope) of his large member into you, you are quickly overwhelmed by it all.

Quiet sobs fall from your trembling lips. You feel so incredibly full, so stretched, his cock taking up any available space inside you. You can feel the tapered tip pressing against your cervix, poking at it as if wanting to go deeper. It's a strange hurt, a sharp pain that turns into a weird comfort, almost-pleasure, as your muscles clench around the unfamiliar intruder. For now he is just resting there, heavy on top of you, heavy inside of you, but then, he starts moving.

You squeak like a slaughtered pig when he withdraws slowly before slamming his hips back against you, hammering his cock deep into you, forcing his way through your tense muscles. He gives you a moment to breathe between his thrusts, but only for so long, until he repeats the motion, over and over again. A slow drag along your walls, a forceful slam back into your depths, out and in, pause, out and in, pause, and despite the ever repeating rhythm you yelp out every time, surprised all over again by the sharp pain crashing through your body.

And it's not just his tip bullying your deepest points, it's that strange bulb at the base of his cock that nudges against your pussy lips with every deep plunge. What's it called? A knot? You don't know much about the matter, why would you ever be interested in animal anatomy, but you wish you could do a quick google or something to ease your mind at the strange sensations. Not that it would change anything.

He keeps pounding into you, always increasing his pace a little bit, slowly taking away your little breathing breaks, until he is hammering into you with full speed, just like the feral beast that he is, and all you can do is whine and wail and moan and mewl, unable to think, unable to breathe, unable to do anything but take it. You're squirming beneath him, both trying to get away from his ruthless assault and maybe, possibly, trying to match his rhythm to make it somewhat better for yourself.

His large form looms over you, his low grunts and growls loud in your ear as he nuzzles at your neck, bent over like he is, resting on his elbows, caging you in even further. Your hands shoot up to grip at his fur, and you even raise your twitching legs to steady them as you hook them around his strong thighs. It does help to be able to hold onto him like you do, without any limb moving about bonelessly, and the longer you cling to him, finally meeting his thrusts with snaps of your own hips, it starts to feel really good really fast.

Before you know it, you're arching against him, clawing at his back, gasping and sobbing and panting as the heat gathers inside you, burning through your nerves like wildfire, setting everything ablaze, and every rapid thrust spirals you higher and higher, building up that tension in your stomach that is sure to explode at any second. When it does, you are not ready.

A shrill scream rips from your throat as you press your back into the makeshift bed and stiffen beneath him, your mouth wide open as you squeeze your eyes shut. Warmth spreads inside you, forcing its way past the rapidly pistoning cock pummeling your clenching muscles, and it's like a tidal wave, not soothing as it laps against the shore, but destructive, powerful, all-consuming. It drags you along, threatens to drown you, pulls and pushes you as you lose all control over your convulsing body.

Your orgasm crashes through you with a blinding force, letting you forget anything around as it engulfs you in sparkling lights and mind-numbing bliss. By the time it subsides slowly, you can already feel it building up all over again as he just continues to fuck you in his relentless rhythm, hammering his cock deep into you, grunting on top of you, his maw parted as he growls, slobber glistening on his razor sharp teeth, his tongue hanging out lewdly.

But before he propels you into the next orgasm, he suddenly leans up, propped on his strong arms, licking his furry lips as he stares down at you. You may look up at him out of hooded eyes but you can't really see him, just this large shadow above you, but you do feel when he suddenly leaps back, pulls out with a force that coaxes another scream out of you as he rips his large cock from between your tight muscles. You writhe a little, groaning in frustration as your orgasm deflates, as that empty feeling settles in.

Though you don't have to lament the loss of his cock for too long as he grabs your waist and manhandles (wolfhandles?) you onto your hands and knees, at least he hopes you'd stay like this, but your body is too limp to fully function, and so you sink onto your chest, arms outstretched, face buried in the soft blankets, ass raised on shaking knees, your cloak tangled around you. He grips the fabric, strangling you for a moment before he notices his mistake and rips it right off you, making you gasp.

His large hand is on your head as he turns it to the side. You can feel his wet nose poking at your cheek. “I'm gonna breed you now, little one, and you will take it all, yes?” You blink at his words, so low they're only vibrations through your head, and you wonder if you heard him correctly. “I will pump you full and keep you on my knot until it sticks, you hear me?” Clearly you didn't, because... what now?

You squirm beneath him, trying to get up on your elbows at least, but he holds you down, one large hand on your nape as he shifts behind you, his fur brushing against the backs of your thighs before he nudges his knee between your legs and pushes them further apart. You can sense the heat of his cock before it even gets in contact with your core, and when it pushes inside you again, it feels like a knife cutting through melted butter.

You cry out, arching your back, jerking your hips away, but he is ruthless. He's carved his way into your cunt, but there's still a bit of resistance before you can take him as deep as he desires. He doesn't care though, just pounds into you with hard and fast thrusts, in and out, a rapid rutting accompanied by wild panting, and all you can do is grunt and moan too, your body pushed up and down the blankets. His hands move to your waist, claws digging into your soft flesh as he drags your hips back when he slams his against your cushioned rear, forcing his cock deeper still.

Your head is spinning, your heart thundering, and slowly, the burning pain turns into overwhelming pleasure. He's bullying your cervix again, plunging in and out with languid strokes, and you're so aroused by now that the only sound aside from your heavy breaths is the loud and lewd squelching of your wet cunt. It drives you insane how good it feels to be taken like this, bent over, a primal sensation, to be at the mercy of this beast. In this position, he hits all the right spots, and it's a blinding thing all around you as you come hard, crying out helplessly, hands digging into the blankets and pelts, body spasming against him.

He grunts as you clamp down on his cock, but he doesn't stop, he even moves faster, pushes harder, forces all of him into you. And despite your orgasmic haze you feel his knot pummeling against your entrance, trying to fit through. The pain cuts through the cotton in your mind, sharp little jolts whenever he pushes particularly deep, and when those throbbing bulbs suddenly breach you, as your muscles give way to the rest of his cock, you scream, first in agony at the stretching sensation, then again as another intense orgasm rips through you.

He lets out a low howl when your tight muscles clench around him, milking him for all he's worth, before he continues to snap his hips against your rear, bullying his knot deeper. If you felt full before, you are now close to bursting with how stuffed you are. You can barely breathe between all the gasps and whines, and he doesn't let you either as he continues his shallow rutting, his growls and grunts getting louder, more frantic, his clawed fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you against him.

You are again on the edge of pleasure, floating on that wave that threatens to consume you fully, when he suddenly stills, buried deep within you, tip squished right against your cervix, your cunt holding onto his knot as if you would drown without it, and you feel it throbbing, pulsing, swelling up, stretching you even further. Lightning crashes through the clouds of bliss, making you shriek, hot tears rolling down your already wet cheeks.

And then he grunts, leaning over you, snout nuzzling against your neck, burying in your hair, hot breath fanning over your skin as he gives you those tiny snaps of his hips, and your whole body moves with those motions, connected as you are. You feel him shaking above you before you feel something else deep inside you.

Spurt after spurt of hot cum shoots into the already cramped depths of your cunt, filling up quickly, but with his knot holding it all in place, it has no choice but to look for every nook and cranny it can find, pressing through the tiniest openings, and as it does, you shudder deeply, feeling ready to burst before yet another orgasm rips through you, leaving you shaking like a leaf, as his seed breaches into your womb, more and more, with every twitch of his cock, every pulse of his knot, rope after rope, filling you up until you feel completely bloated.

Somehow you manage to move a hand beneath you, rubbing against your usually soft tummy, but it's tense and hard, rounder than you remember it, and even though you should be terrified by it, you can only lie there and take it, as the wolf man above you leans on you and pumps you as full as he has promised. His breathing eases slowly, yours takes a lot longer to go back to normal, and with your heart thundering inside your heaving chest, you feel utterly exhausted.

He licks his tongue over your wet cheek, a sweet gesture among the feral breeding act, and you can't help but give him a tired smile as you try to look at him out of the corner of your eye. He huffs against you, resting his large head on your back as he relaxes – letting his body work for him, because you can still feel him throbbing, shooting more cum into you at irregular intervals, usually accompanied by a soft little roll of his hips, a little nudge to remind your tight cunt he's still very much stuck inside you.

You wonder how long this will last. But before you can think more about this animal rite, your eyelids grow heavier and the world turns black.

You wake with a shriek as you feel a particularly hard thrust hitting your bruised and probably dilated cervix, the sudden pain crashing through you like the stab of a knife. You're no longer kneeling on the makeshift bed, you're lying on your back on his wide body, legs fallen open over massive furry thighs, two strong arms holding you tightly in their grip, squishing your tender breasts. He's switched you around, huffing and puffing beneath you as he pushes his hips up in a slow but steady rhythm.

“Again?” you groan out, trying to squirm in his tight embrace.

“Not over yet, little one,” he growls into your ear, wet nose poking at your cheek as he shifts beneath you. “More to give.”

“Ugh,” you make, your head lolling back against his shoulder. “But I'm so full...”

“You can take more,” he tells you quietly, a low rumble in the air. One large hand moves down your body, firmly pressing against your bloated stomach. You moan in response, your own hand finding his, trying to feel the same he does.

It's unnatural, that's for sure. That bump should not look and feel like this after only one load of his seed. But then again – he is unnatural, everything about him is. Who knows how special his cum is. Though you really don't want to think about it. You don't want to get pregnant, no matter how hot the whole breeding thing may be in theory. And you probably won't anyway, he's a wolf (man), it sure won't be compatible, right? A groan escapes you as you shake your head to clear it. No more thinking.

Just enjoy his warmth, the way he holds you, moves inside you, locked on his knot for who knows how long. Despite it all it feels comforting, somehow even romantic in a way, to be connected like this. Inhaling deeply, you relax into his soft but also hard body, his fur feels nice against your sweaty skin, the bulging muscles beneath exuding strength and safety. A good bed, that's what he is, with the added bonus of a truly incredible cock that fills you out perfectly, rubbing you just the right way.

Another wave of exhaustion washes over you, alongside what feels like the gentlest orgasm you've ever experienced, a little tingling sensation, a burning deep within, a soothing caress. You sigh contently, closing your eyes, falling deeper into his embrace.

When you come to next, you feel a cold breeze against your face that makes your nose twitch. You seem to move, but your limbs are still out of order, and when you slowly fight your way back into consciousness, you realize you're being carried, with two strong hands holding your thighs up while you are still impaled by that unbelievably resilient cock. A groan escapes you.

“Calm down, little one,” the wolf man grunts into your ear as he walks through the dark basement. “Almost done now.”

“Does it always take this long?” you whisper, leaning into him, your hands grabbing his wrists to steady yourself.

“For the knot to go down? Well, you are particularly arousing, my little Red, I can't help it. Seems you are my special mate after all,” he hums deeply.

You turn your head slightly to look at him, raising an eyebrow. “Mate?”

“Yes, mate. I would have made you mine already, but I wanted to see how you can take me.” He inhales deeply as he presses his muzzle into your hair. “You did amazingly,” he adds, lapping at the shell of your ear. You shiver, squirming away with a surprised giggle that travels through your entire body, making you clench around his hard cock.

“Your stamina is really concerning,” you reply with a shake of your head. “Not sure I could do this again...”

“But you're still doing it, holding my knot so perfectly, keeping my seed inside you,” he huffs gently, licking along your neck as he turns around and walks back the way he came.

“Why are you walking in circles?” you wonder, moving your hands to your rounded stomach. Every movement seems to slosh its contents about. A strange feeling for sure.

“I can't keep you on it forever, I am afraid,” he says in a low rumble. “The moon is setting soon...”

You frown at his words, not even wondering what time it is right now, shifting in his hold to better look into his wolfish face. “And then what?”

“I'll turn into a man again,” he tells you, his dark eyes boring into yours. Something warm crashes through you.

“How is that a bad thing?” you blurt out, more excited about that prospect than you probably should be.

He huffs a low laugh, shaking his large head. “You wouldn't want to be near me when I do. It's painful even for me, and to have you stuck to me would be... devastating.”

“Oh,” you make, blinking as you process his words, chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“Let's try our luck, hm?” he then says, carrying you back to the makeshift bed.

He kneels down with you strapped to his chest like a newborn in a carry-on, and when he bends you forward, you brace yourself, resting on your hands and knees as he shifts behind you. His clawed fingers dig into your plump hips as he gives you a tentative nudge of his pelvis. You wince at the sensation, the stretch and pull on your tight muscles sending shivers down your spine.

His sigh is loud and warm around you, and apparently his knot is still too inflated to budge. Inhaling deeply, you buck your rear against him, trying to relax, ease your muscles, force his cock out of you. He seems to notice your efforts and starts pulling gently, grinding his hips, inching himself backwards. You still feel a sharp pain when his knot nudges against your tight entrance from within, but it's slowly widening, giving way, and when he pops out and slips free, you gasp and collapse on the bed, the sudden loss of pressure almost dizzying.

He lets out a low growl, his hand rubbing over your swollen pussy lips as you feel your muscles contracting around nothing, or rather the flood of cum that's bound to spill from your depths if he wouldn't hold his large palm there. He rolls you onto your side, snuggling against your back, before he pulls his fingers away, pressing your thighs together instead. His wet nose rubs against your jaw as he pulls his strong arms around you.

“Rest now, little one. Keep your legs closed,” he whispers, holding you tightly.

You're too exhausted to protest or care about any possible spillage or whatever consequences may result from this unusual coupling. None of it matters. Sleep does sound really good right about now. The wolf man relaxes behind you, his deep breaths slowly turning into loud snores, and you allow yourself to catch some Zs too. You'll need your strength. For something. Hmm. What was it again? Some sort of plan? Doesn't matter. It'll come to you. Now you just want to rest, let your body recover from whatever ordeal this has been. Knotted and bred by a werewolf. Pfft. What a silly dream...

Your eyes fly open as if someone has turned on the light in your empty mind, illuminating everything that's happened earlier. Oh. Oh God. Oh no! Your breaths accelerate, your heart beats faster as you realize where you are, in whose arms you're lying. His snores still echo through the cavernous room, your body molded to his larger frame, his arms tight around you.

Carefully you wriggle your way out of his embrace, listening closely to his rumbling sounds, but he seems too far gone to notice your frantic escape. You manage to slip from under his arms, your body aching when you move it, but you fight through the discomfort and slowly stand up on shaking legs. Immediately you feel something wet and sticky dripping down your thigh, and a quick touch to your bloated stomach tells you, you are still filled to the brim with werewolf cum. Fuck. This can't be happening.

Turning around, you see the furry beast slumbering away peacefully, his large body moving with every thundering snore. Once you got your bearings, you start looking around the room until you find some clothes. Not yours though, but a big plaid shirt that you slip into. It reaches almost to your knees, so it'll have to do. When your eyes fall on the red cloak next to the makeshift bed, you hesitate, but then you leave it behind. Let him have a small remembrance of your special night.

At least you find your shoes, and once you're ready to leave, you throw a last glance back at the monster. He's still fast asleep, and you almost regret having to leave, but you can't just live in some cave or basement with a werewolf, letting him pump you full of cum to carry his pups or whatever it is he expects of you, no matter how mind-blowing the experience has been.

Biting your lip, you turn around and try to find a way out, and surprisingly enough, he didn't lock you in. After climbing a set of stairs, you find yourself in a small cabin, and when you try the front door, it just opens. Stepping outside into the night (which surprises you, you were almost certain you were stuck on his damn knot for a day or more, or so it felt), you fight the shivers, snuggling into the large shirt that smells like him, a comforting scent that doesn't make it easier to leave.

But you do, trying to find your way through the darkness. The moon is nowhere to be seen, it may just be a cloudy night, or it really was close to setting, you can't be sure, and frankly, it doesn't concern you anymore. You gotta move on, get back to the house, ask someone to call you an Uber...

As you suddenly realize you have no idea where your purse is, you stumble onto a better lit path, but the sight of what awaits you at the end makes you shiver deeply. It's a graveyard.

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

You've come to a (literal) dead end. Or have you?

No, just keep going...

But you can always go back to the beginning and choose another door. Back in the hallway, here are your options:

Reach for the door closest to you.

Go through the door a few feet on your right.

Notes: I'd like to thank @moongurl95 for planting this idea into my head! Thank you so much for sharing your open-ended dream, it really inspired this whole adventure, but particularly this part! I hope I could fill in the blanks! <3

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[latenightreadingpdf]

A Hufflepuff's Heart - Regulus Black

₊‧⁺˖⋆ Masterlist ⋆˖⁺‧₊

Summary: Regulus Black’s unexpected friendship with a sweet Hufflepuff is revealed when Sirius catches them together.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

The air in the castle was brisk, the cool draft weaving through the stone corridors and carrying with it the faint scent of autumn leaves and freshly lit torches. Regulus pulled his cloak a little tighter around his shoulders, his mind preoccupied with the latest round of pranks that had once again targeted Slytherin House. It wasn’t hard to guess who was responsible—his brother Sirius’s handiwork was as familiar as it was aggravating. Regulus could almost predict the moment Sirius would appear, armed with a smirk and a taunt, ready to test his patience yet again.

Sure enough, as Regulus turned the corner, Sirius was waiting there, arms crossed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

“Ah, Regulus,” Sirius drawled, that irritatingly self-satisfied smile tugging at his lips. “How’s my favorite Slytherin?”

Regulus forced himself to remain calm, carefully keeping his expression neutral, planning to just walk right past his brother.

Sirius’s grin widened, undeterred. “I take it you noticed the common room… enhancement? Thought the emerald and silver scheme could use a bit of sparkle.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, the irritation flaring up despite his attempts to stay indifferent. “If you’re going to make yourself a nuisance, at least have the decency to make it subtle.”

“Oh, subtlety is no fun, Reg,” Sirius replied easily, leaning back against the wall, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Besides, it’s not as if you’re incapable of a bit of rule-breaking yourself. Don’t think I don’t know about those after-hours trips to the library—”

“Sirius,” Regulus interrupted sharply, his voice low but firm. “I’m not interested in discussing my nightly habits with you.”

Before Sirius could fire back, the sound of footsteps echoed down the corridor, followed by a familiar, bright voice that cut through the tension like sunlight breaking through clouds.

“Reggy!”

Both brothers turned to see you striding towards them, your Hufflepuff robes swishing as you approached, your face lighting up with a smile that was warm enough to melt even the most stubborn winter chill. Regulus’s expression softened instantly, his usual guarded look replaced by something more open, more vulnerable.

Without a second thought, you walked right up to Regulus and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. He stiffened for a heartbeat, caught off guard by your sudden affection, but quickly melted into the embrace, his arms coming up to hold you close.

“Hey,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth and a hint of concern. “How have you been?”

“I’m… good,” Regulus replied, his voice softer than usual, almost as if he were afraid of breaking the spell your presence cast. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips, a rare sight that seemed reserved only for you.

As you finally pulled back, still standing close to him, you seemed to notice Sirius for the first time, your gaze shifting over to the older Black brother with a look of surprise. A polite, curious smile flickered across your face as you gave him a small wave.

“Oh, hi! I didn’t realize there was anyone else here. I’m Y/N,” you said, introducing yourself in that sweet, open way that Regulus had come to adore.

Sirius raised his eyebrows, looking you up and down as if trying to solve a riddle. He offered a nod, his grin softening into something more curious, though he said nothing in reply. For once, Sirius Black seemed to be at a loss for words. There was something he couldn’t quite place about you—a gentleness, a warmth—that seemed so at odds with the icy walls Regulus usually built around himself. It was strange, almost impossible to imagine someone so kind being so close to his guarded, distant brother.

After a moment, Sirius managed a slight smile, finally extending his hand to you. "Sirius Black,” he introduced himself, his tone curious, though he kept his usual charm restrained. “Regulus’s… older brother.”

You took his hand, returning his smile with a polite one of your own. “Oh! It’s nice to meet you,” you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. You turned back to Regulus, seemingly oblivious to Sirius’s scrutiny. “I had no idea you had a brother, Reggy!” you said with a laugh, your eyes shining with amusement. “You keep him quite the secret.”

Regulus shifted, his hand instinctively tightening around your shoulder. He’d dreaded this moment for so long, the day you would meet Sirius, the brother who seemed to draw people in without effort, who everyone adored and admired. Regulus had always felt invisible in his shadow, the “other” Black brother, colder and quieter, always on the outside looking in. But you had seen him—you had seen past the walls, the carefully constructed mask, and found something worth holding onto. And he couldn’t bear the thought of sharing that with Sirius, of watching you get pulled into his brother’s orbit and realizing he could never be what Sirius was.

Sirius, still watching silently, caught the faint, possessive gesture, the way Regulus seemed to pull you closer as if trying to keep you all to himself. His expression flickered with something unreadable, a mixture of curiosity and something softer, something he hadn’t expected to feel. Seeing Regulus with you—seeing his younger brother so fiercely protective of this rare connection—stirred something in him, a strange pang of almost… respect.

The silence stretched, and you shifted slightly, glancing between the two brothers as if sensing the tension, though you didn’t seem to mind. Instead, you gave Sirius a warm, friendly smile before turning back to Regulus, your hand reaching for his as you gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Well, Reggy and I should get going,” you said softly, looking up at him. “We’ve got some homework to catch up on.”

Regulus’s gaze softened at the touch, and he nodded, his lips curving into that faint, private smile that he reserved only for you. “Yes, we should.”

With a final nod toward Sirius, Regulus gently guided you down the hallway, his arm draped protectively over your shoulders. He glanced back once, catching Sirius’s gaze, and for a fleeting moment, the brothers shared a look of understanding—a silent acknowledgment, a truce of sorts. Sirius watched as you walked away together, his brow furrowed in thought, his mind turning over the strange puzzle of his brother and his unlikely friend.

How did someone as kind, as open-hearted as you manage to find your way into the life of someone as complex and withdrawn as Regulus? Sirius couldn’t understand it, couldn’t fathom what had drawn you to his quiet, brooding brother. But as he watched the two of you disappear down the corridor, he felt a spark of hope, a rare flicker of warmth in the cold, stone-cast walls of the castle.

Maybe Regulus had found something Sirius had never truly understood—a genuine connection that didn’t rely on charm or bravado, but on something softer, something real.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[fangirl-dot-com]

🏆 Sei a Casa, Charles 

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader Genre: Fluff, Comfort, Light smut Summary: Monaco finally loved him back. Charles is home.

*my long awaited Charles Monaco win imagine! it is completed after my computer was finally fixed and after 30+ hours of having no power at my house. it's been a rough couple of days, but I'm still reeling in the moment that Charles won his home race.

*A big thank you goes to @pucksandpower for helping me with the smut parts. you all know that I can't write anything beyond a small make out sesh. you all will know what parts she wrote! but look for this ✨ if you want to skip it!

TAG LIST IS CLOSED

You couldn’t pick out the exact moment of when you started to cry. 

Was it lap 1? Lap 20? Lap 76? Maybe tears finally started to leak from your eyes as you stood under the podium, waiting for the love of your life to finally appear? Or were the tears drops of champagne that flowed from his winner’s bottle? 

You didn’t know, but you knew that the pride in your heart could not be contained internally. It had to escape somewhere, so it formed itself into tears that were shed as you watched the whole vast of Monaco finally love Charles back. 

You remembered the past times you cried as you stood below. 

Tears from him, from you, and from the both of you stained the past asphalt here in the principality. Disappointment after disappointment would forever be written in the streets of Monte Carlos. However, today was the rain that would wash everything away. 

Today was the day the sun finally shone once again. 

But the sun would not dry the tears of pride from your face, you wouldn’t let it. The testament of your love and pride could make divots in your face for the rest of time, and you’d never want to fill them. 

The applause around you grew as Carlos walked out, waving below. You could guess that the Spaniard knew that these people weren’t for him. They weren’t for anyone other than the green-eyed man in red. 

More applause sounded as the green and yellow suit of Oscar stood out against the red of everything else. Your partially adopted son for the weekend caught your eye and gave you a sad smile. You could only shake your head, hoping to relay that these tears were finally not for a broken heart. 

The moment the applause grew to screams, yells, and everything in between, you knew what it meant. In this moment, everything stood still in the chaos. Flags of red, yellow, red and white flew around your face. Joris stood behind you, hand on the small of your back to keep you steady. 

But like you, his tears didn’t stop: they multiplied. 

Finally, you had the courage to look up and gaze upon the subject of praise that would ring for all of eternity. You couldn’t help but join in, making a small dent in history for yourself. 

Pride seemed to double, tripling the number of tears that fell. You knew a camera was focused on you, but nothing could take your eyes away from him on the step, flag in his trembling hands. You were almost silently saying, “Turn the camera on the man who has rewritten his and the country’s history.” 

You watched as your prince wrapped his arms around his most precious gift. No one had been able to do what he did. A national treasure for the rest of time. 

You witnessed your princess hug him dearly. His hands still trembled as he clutched his red and white flag. If it made him feel any better, you were trembling too, along with the hosts of Monaco. The people trembled in their spots, the flags swished back and forth. Hell, the boats in the port still roared for him, almost thirty minutes after he had crossed that beloved finish line. 

When he finally turned to face the crowd below, your world went silent as your focus pinpointed on Charles. 

History’s Charles. Monaco’s Charles. Formula One’s Charles. 

Your Charles. 

A laugh finally bullied its way through your tears as you saw him accidentally drop the flag and scramble to pick it up. Joris had started to rub your back, knowing that you needed some comfort. Where Joris was, there you were too. 

The two of you liked to claim both spots of Charles’s right and left sides. Deemed the best WAGs by fans everywhere, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere but next to the boys. He had had a chance to race down to see your race winner before he had to go to the cooldown room. You had wanted to run with him, an invisible force wanted to drag you along. But you had stayed, to comfort and hug the people around you. 

Where Joris was on your left, Arthur was on your right. He looked so much like his brother. The boy, who you had watched grow through his own disappointments and sorrows, also had his tears. 

Today, however, every tear shed was the opposite of sorrows. They weren’t of heavy hearts or disappointments. 

Every tear shed was pride incarnate. 

The podium ended with Charles almost being drowned by his teammate and “adopted son.” How you wished you could be up there with him. You knew, though, that you’d have your time with him soon. 

When you were allowed to leave, Charles’s driver room was the first place you’d go. In the back of your mind, you knew that he’d still be a while, the media taking up his time. And after was the principality dinner, and then probably Jimmyz with however many people you could fit in the club. 

But then, after the whole of Monaco had a piece of him, he’d be yours. 

The door opening caught your attention as you looked up from your phone. Many say that second- or third-place-Charles still had a smile, but it wasn’t a true one. Today was a testament to that stamen as he walked in with the biggest smile on his face. 

If he could shine, he’d rival the sun. 

A sigh escaped Charles’s lips when he saw you sitting on his couch after he was done with media. He could see that your mascara had slightly run, the only clues that you had cried. 

“Mon ange,” he said as he dove into your awaiting arms. He felt damp under your hands, a mix of champagne and port water. You were ready for him to drop on you, and you welcomed the familiar weight. 

“My race winner,” you whispered, pressing a long kiss to his hairline. Charles had none of that as he leaned up to press his lips against yours, wanting a true feeling of you next to him. He could die happily now if he needed to. 

Your hands wrapped themselves in his hair, lightly tugging him back so that you could breathe. A low whine escaped him, making you lean your head back in laughter: his favorite sound of all. 

“We have to get going,” you gently reminded him, already in the process of standing up. “And you need to shower. You stink.” 

When you looked back down, Charles was definitely trying the puppy eyes on you, a pout joining on his lips. You shook your head. 

“None of that, Char. You know that only Leo can pull off the eyes.” 

Grumbles responded as he begrudgingly pulled himself off the couch. You knew that you only had a certain amount of time before people came looking for Charles. At that moment, you wanted to whisk him away, keep him from anyone for the rest of the night. However, your moments together wouldn’t happen until either late into the night or early in the morning. 

You could wait, he’s waited long enough for this. 

As the two of you quickly got ready after Charles biked home, which you thought was ridiculous, you enjoyed the quiet of your home. He seemed a bit on the quiet side, but you thought that he might be saving his energy for what was to come. You had picked out a very nice black dress that hugged your figure in just the right areas. 

When you walked into the living area, Charles’s back was to you, his hand patting his pocket. You cleared your voice, making him turn around. 

Charles’s breath caught in his throat at the sight of you. He stalked over and placed his hands on your hips, bringing you flush against him. 

“I think I must have died for an angel is before me.” 

You scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly. 

“I must have done something good in my past life to have my own prince,” you said, hands joining together at his nape. Charles, aware of the time, led you over to the door, opening it for you. Below, his Ferrari Competizione waited to take you to the dinner. 

Charles didn’t know what he was expecting when he got there, but a standing ovation wasn’t one of them. You had to hold back more tears, as you didn’t want your makeup to be ruined. You stood with the halls of Monaco to honor Charles for his moment. 

Pascale, Arthur, and Joris watched you as you kept clapping with the others. The three knew that you loved Charles probably more than you loved anything else in life. You two had been together for five years, going through the ups and downs together. It was hard, but your love strengthened with every hurdle. 

When Charles got to sit back down as they started on the first course, you leaned over. 

“So, are you going to be knighted or something now?” 

Your question made him snort as he wiped his hands on his pants. It was probably nerves. He licked his lips, eyes flittering at the three who were watching on with hopeful eyes. In his mind, he knew that Antoine was waiting behind at a different table.

“I was hoping to be titled something else?” 

You cocked your head. “Oh? What were you thinking?” 

He didn’t answer, but his head moved to look at something on the table. Your eyes followed his line of sight to a small black box sitting in front of your plate.

Oh. 

You whipped your head back to Charles, who had a hopeful smile on his face. Your hands rose to cover your mouth. 

“You’re being serious?” you questioned, voice hitching with excitement. The small nod of his head made you want to squeal, but you kept in inside. Charles knew that you were a bit on the shyer side and probably didn’t want him to get down on one knee, so he gently reached over to grab the box. He turned to you and popped it open.

He grabbed the bottom of your chair and slid it next to him so that your shoulders were touching. He looked over, and it was his turn to have tears sliding down his cheeks. 

“Mon coeur. Mon amour. Mon soleil. Mon vie. You are the best thing that I have in this world, and after today I know that no race win could ever compare to you. Please let me be happy for the rest of my life with you.” 

This time, you let the tears fall as you nodded your head. “Yes.” 

Charles let out a sigh of relief as he took the ring from the box and slid it on your finger. Small claps came from the three at the table, as to not bring attention to the sweet and intimate moment. You leaned over and placed a kiss on his lips and rested your forehead against his. 

“Only if you’ll let me be happy for the rest of my life with you.” 

Charles lost his voice, too deep in emotion and happiness to answer. So, a simple nod would have to make due. 

Arthur decided to make a statement. “You both are going to get so wasted tonight.” 

The table erupted with laughter, because you knew he was correct. Charles deserved a party, and that’s what he was going to get. 

You at least had the smart thought process to keep your ring at the bottom of your purse that you carried in the club. Your hand clutched the handle, not letting anyone get near it in fear of having it be ripped out of your hand. 

Pierre was one of the first to congratulate you and Charles. The Frenchman held the two of you in his arms as he whispered congratulations. He wasn’t the only driver that knew of Charles’s plan. 

You smiled as your eyes caught Charles with the Monaco flag over his head. You had to pause your conversation with Max, jutting your head in the Monegasque’s direction. 

“I better go get him.” 

Max wiggled his eyebrows. “Wouldn’t want him to get into an inchident would we?”  

You playfully bumped your shoulder against his as you walked in Charles’s direction. If you thought your boyfriend’s eyes were wide before, they found even more room to widen when he made eye contact with you. 

Charles raised his arms up. “Mon ange! Everyone, it’s my fiancé! I’m getting married!” 

You wanted to wince as you prayed that everyone either was too drunk to comprehend his screeching or that they couldn’t hear him over the sound of the bass. 

You grabbed his arm and brought him closer. “I think it’s time to go home.” 

He nodded immediately. “Oui, oui. We need to go make beuacoup de bebes!” 

You flushed red under the lights of the club as Charles now dragged you along, Monegasque flag still over his head. Now you were really hoping that no one heard. You knew that he was joking though. However, when you got home, he might have been serious. 

The bass of the club still rang in your ears as you stumbled through the door of your apartment, lips locked with Charles in a passionate kiss. He fumbles blindly for the light switch, finally bathing the entryway in a soft glow as you pull apart breathlessly. 

“Mon belle,” Charles murmurs huskily, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. His eyes are shining with a mix of exhilaration and adoration. “My amazing fiancé. The true winner today.”

You let out a breathless giggle, feeling giddy and invincible in the wake of his historic Monaco win. “I just stood on the sidelines and cheered. You’re the one who drove like a demon out there.”

“Couldn’t have done it without you,” he says fervently, capturing your lips again in a searing kiss. His hands roam hungrily over the curve of your waist, the soft swell of your hips, pulling you flush against him. You can feel the rumble of his groan against your mouth as your fingers tangle in his sweat-dampened curls.

“Bedroom,” you whimpered between heated kisses, already tugging at the buttons of his button up. “Now.”

✨

Charles needed no further encouragement, sweeping you up into his arms in one fluid motion. You let out a squeal of surprise that quickly morphs into breathless laughter as he carries you down the hallway. Kicking open the bedroom door, he deposits you onto the luxuriously soft mattress before stretching out beside you, propped up on one elbow.

“You are so beautiful, mon chérie,” he husks, trailing a line of scorching kisses along your jawline. “My perfect girl.”  

“And you’re an overachiever,” you tease, smoothing the crinkles from his furrowed brow with gentle fingers. “Winning your home race. Proposing at the principality dinner. What more could a you ever want?”

Charles let out a low chuckle, capturing your wandering hand and brushing his lips over your knuckles. “Just you. It’s always you.”

You felt your cheeks warming at his words, the sheer intensity of his forest-eyed gaze. Even after all this time, he still had a way of making you feel like the only girl in the world. Sliding one hand around the back of his neck, you pull him down for a long, smoldering kiss.

“I love you,” you whisper against his lips between heated caresses. “My champion. Mon fiancé.”

He lets out a low groan, deepening the kiss until you’re both dizzily breathless and straining against each other with a rising tide of desire. His clever fingers are already making quick work of the buttons on your dress, pushing the satiny fabric off your shoulders in one smooth motion.  

You arch against him with a soft moan as his lips blaze a path over your collarbones, dancing lower to the hollow of your throat. Every brush of his mouth against your tingling skin has heat unfurling low in your belly. 

“Off,” you demand impatiently, tugging at the stubborn zipper of his pants until he finally kicks off the sweat-dampened fabric. His skin is feverishly hot to the touch, the lean muscles of his back rippling under your stroking palms as he settles over you.

Another breathless giggle escapes your lips as he nuzzles along the sensitive curve of your neck, whispering a stream of endearments. “You are insatiable.”

“Only for you, mon coeur,” he rumbles, amusement dancing in the depths of those enchanting eyes as he props himself up on his forearms to gaze down at you adoringly. “My everything. Ma vie.”

His mouth covers yours again in a long, drugging kiss that has your toes curling against the soft sheets. You lose yourself in the velvet glide of his tongue, the addictive taste of him, the delicious weight of his body pinning you to the mattress. Every nerve ending feels electrified by his scorching touch, every brush of skin against skin lighting up new sparks of longing.

When you finally break apart to catch your breath, Charles presses his forehead to yours with a contented sigh. “What did I do to deserve you, mon ange?”

Cradling his face in your hands, you meet his intense gaze steadily. “You won my love. Every single ounce of it.”

His smile is radiant, lighting up the room more brilliantly than a thousand racing spotlights as he leans in to capture your lips again. This time the kiss is softer, more tender — a communion between two souls completely lost in each other. He let his hand trail up your forearm and settled in in your palm. 

Your ring, that you had put back on in the car, felt cold against his fingers. He shivered at the feeling. You were his for the rest of his life. 

You and he lost all track of time in that blissful tangle of limbs, trading fevered caresses and breathless whispers of adoration. When climax was finally reached between the two of you, you let yourself bask in the pants coming from yours and his lips. 

Charles watched as you slightly winced as he pulled out, gently comforting you with sweet words. He quickly got up to grab a towel from the bathroom, wetting it with some water before going back to bed. Charles let his eyes gaze over your form, still coming down from the high. 

When he didn’t make any moves to get closer, you turned your head and sleepily smiled at him, arms reaching out. It was only then that Charles walked back over to the bed. He quickly wiped you down, and then himself before grabbing the duvet at the edge of the bed. 

You hummed lazily when the fluffy blanket was draped over your body. You scooted over and laid your head on his chest. 

“Welcome home, Charles. You’re finally home. Je t’aime.” 

Home, to him, would never be a place anymore. Because why would he need a place, when he could hold his home, his world, right in his arms. 

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[some-bunniii]

My Charming Red Savior [5]

・❥ You make a deal with Alastor, uh oh?

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 |

x: i actually enjoy alastor’s room a lot, esp that little pocket dimension he’s got going on. thought we’d take a chapter and play around with it!

~ 6.1k words

When you stepped into Alastor’s room, the last thing you expected to see was the opposite wall divulging into some swampy void of tall, dark trees as fog rolled across the grass. You swore you could even hear the faint sounds of bullfrogs calling across the flooded expanse.

A bayou in the middle of the hotel? Alastor must have done this, no doubt. Stopping just past the threshold to the large room, you pointed a questioning finger towards the swamp. 

“What is that…?” 

“Just a place to test my powers,” Alastor brushed past you, and the soft, orange lights nearby flickered to life as he entered beside you, “Somewhere the consequences of my actions won’t affect the outside world.”

“Consequences?”

“Correct,” Alastor seemed to be enjoying educating you on magic and what he was capable of, as he continued to undo his coat near the doorway as you explored, “The limits of my powers continue to expand, and anyone with a good head on their shoulders would do well to understand the potential risks involved when playing around with demonic forces. This is a sanctuary I can do that without causing chaos inside the hotel… and a quaint little view as well.”

“Is it real?” Your gaze skimmed across old black-and-white photos of demons you didn’t recognize.

“An illusion carefully crafted with years of work. I’ve fine-tuned it to display scenes closest to my memories from before.”

“It must remind you of home,” you said softly, eyes tracing an alligator skeleton nailed to the wall, a string of small, flickering lights snaking around its ribs and up its tail. 

Even if Alastor never mentioned it without a little prodding, it seemed as if his old home on Earth was something he continued to keep close to him. He still had a passion for music, for southern food, and his drive to keep everything the way it was only further displayed his fondness towards his life on earth. What wasn’t there to miss when you’d end up in a place like this for eternity?

“Indeed,” Alastor nodded slowly, and you watched his signature red suit slip slowly down his back. Underneath, a crimson dress shirt shimmered softly in the ambient light. Thin, leather straps hugged tightly across his chest and back, before wrapping around his shoulders for one and down his sides to latch tightly on his dress pants. 

The chest suspenders accentuated his slenderness, shaping the pointish frame of his suit to lovely lines like the noticeable curve of his hips. His thin, feminine waist was as prominent as ever with the straps keeping his shirt nestled tightly against his skin, revealing a more sophisticated figure than what his tuxedo suit had to offer.

Wowie.

You prayed Alastor would turn around to face you, only so you could see how yummy he looked from the front while he placed his signature red coat onto the hanger next to the door. You struggled to keep your eyes up as they traveled farther and farther down his firm back until—

Wait, a second. Was that small, dark red tuft of fur that was nestled against the small of his back, actually what you think it is? 

It jutted out from the top of Alastor’s pants, relaxed against the tight fabric. As the demon walked towards the bookshelf, arm raising towards a vintage radio, it swished cutely behind him. You zoned in on the ball of fluff, mouth slightly agape.

TAIL!

Heat instantly crept onto your cheeks, your fingers twitching, itching to reach forward and wrap your fingers around the plush fur. Alastor’s tail looked as soft as his ears, and that made your face only boil hotter as you imagined how his hair must feel similar. The thought of burying your face in him like a pillow made you smile dopely, before the realization of what you were thinking made you clamp your lips into a thin line.

Smacking a hand over your face, you tried to hide your embarrassment as Alastor moved a few feet further away, completely oblivious to your flustered figure ogling him.

What was wrong with you?! Here you were supposed to be helping him with his wounds but instead you were too busy drooling at how pretty he was!

Alastor’s tail was much more reactive than his ears, and as his fingers fussed with the radio dial, the increasingly audible jazz tune that began to waft through its speakers had that tuft of fur beginning to rise. White peaked from his underfur, as it slowly lifted in a silent expression of pleasure from the demon, as the music began to pour from the radio crystal clear.

You could understand why he was so intent on keeping it hidden underneath his suit. It didn’t seem like Alastor had complete control of his tail, and there was no doubt he saw it as a ‘weakness’ that other powerful demons could use against him somehow.

You thought it was adorable, and somehow, you’d convince Alastor of that too. 

A gentle jazz beat with words you didn’t recognize wafted through the air, as Alastor turned to face you with a satisfied grin. Your eyes instantly shot up to meet his own, but not in time for the demon to notice your strange, heated demeanor and the way you cracked a quick, innocent grin. 

He definitely caught you staring at his ass, and now you had other things to stare at with how snug that leather strap was across his upper body, and the way it seemed to only make his chest puff out even more. You definitely weren’t having a hard time controlling your gaze as Alastor sidled to the desk, a playful glint from his monocle as his eyelids lowered slightly. 

“Find something of interest?” He hummed, cracking a charming smile as he slid his claws gently across the oak desk’s surface, tracing lines downward until he landed at the top drawer. Pulling it open as you averted your gaze, eyes searching for anything of interest.

“Why, yes,” you nodded, putting a hand to your chin in dramatic thought as your attention landed on the bookshelf Alastor had just moved away from, the rows of books on full display, the titles unreadable in the dim light.

“You love to read, unsurprisingly.” You smiled as Alastor pulled a small medical kit from the drawer, turning to face you slowly, “Do you have a preferred genre?” 

“Murder mysteries are a favorite of mine,” He nodded, striding over to the twin vintage cushioned chairs that sat next to the fireplace, “The fear and the adrenaline that spikes through the protagonist as they try to find the killer before the killer finds them, a thrilling hunt from both sides.”

Alastor giggled at that, placing a hand to his mouth as if recalling a fond memory as you slowly joined him next to the fireplace. It flickered with bright green light, licking at the metal railings keeping its size in check as Alastor stood beside the chair, gesturing you to sit.

“You’re the one injured,” you frowned, plopping down into the chair as you took the medical kit from his free hand, “It should be me doing these things for you.” 

“Manners don’t go out the door just because there is blood present, I am still a gentleman,” Alastor replied with a waggle of his finger, before he took a seat near you, his claws tapping against the chair’s arm rhythmically with the jazz music. 

The warmth from the fire had your eyes drooping slightly, exhaustion tickling the back of your scalp. Even though it was technically still early afternoon, almost getting blown up multiple times, meeting the king of Hell who also saved your life, and being in the center of the two power demon’s bickering had drained you. 

Alastor’s room was very serene, the soft jazz lulling you into a tranquility that had you sinking further into the chair. The deep brown, neutral tones of the antique furniture that framed the room, along with the orange lights that flickered softly along the walls were easy on your eyes, and you smiled softly as you unclipped the medical case’s lid and opened it slowly.

With invisible hands, Alastor’s chair moved forward without effort, scraping softly against the dark red carpet beneath before stilling right as his legs were about to brush against your own. Skimming through the contents of bandaids, your attention landed on packaged tiny alcohol wipes and thin white gauze. Placing the two items on your lap, you leaned over and placed the medical kit on a side table nearby. 

Lifting a hand towards Alastor, you beckoned him forward and he slid his fingers into your palm. He leaned forward as you pulled his hand into your lap, one elbow against the arm of the chair, a hand cupping his chin as he watched you tenderly dab his cuts with the alcohol wipe. The smeared blood against his skin was cleaned off as you worked, and Alastor only silently judged you on the strange, affectionate behavior.

Why would you care so much about a few scratches on his hand, when it meant nothing in the long run. It's not like the rose was made out of angelic steel, yet you fretted simply because he could still feel the sting of the thorns on his tender skin.

For any other demon, Alastor would have slapped them across the face with a tentacle for suggesting to look after him in this way. Why would he reveal any kind of weakness to someone who could use it against him, or view him as what, fragile, delicate? That was not something The Radio Demon could have for his image.

Except, your intention was nothing but pure since the first time Alastor had met you. Even Charlie, the sweet and naive woman he’d come to grow fond of, still had her reasons for treating Alastor with great kindness. He was beneficial to her hotel’s success, and as long as he felt welcomed, he’d help her turn her dreams into reality. Since he began climbing the political ladder of Pentagram City, anytime someone wanted his presence was to use him. 

You, on the other hand, had no ulterior motive. Even when you learned from your friend the terrible things they claim Alastor committed, your curiosity and kindness towards him never faltered. 

You had never asked for his help, even going so far as to deny his assistance when it came to putting that snobby boss of yours back in line. Every time the two of you had crossed paths, it had been him initiating the meeting, him making the first moves for you to notice his presence, him seeking you out. 

And now, even seeing Alastor in any kind of vulnerable state, your soft and gentle demeanor didn’t waver, didn’t dull knowing he wasn’t a second-to-none overlord that could take on any threat as he’s so valiantly demonstrated before.

You didn’t value him any less for his injuries, and in truth, your image of him only improved knowing he was just a man in demon form. Someone with insecurities, human emotions like pain and jealousy, and a good eye for flora.

Except, Alastor wished you’d be paying less attention to his grievous wounds, and instead of focusing on the question you were rudely interrupted trying to answer this morning. 

“Come to a decision on your stay at the hotel?” 

Your hands halted in mid-air, the gauze between your fingers while you had been finishing up wrapping his fingers with the white tape. You had been thinking this whole time about different haircuts to subtly introduce Alastor to improve the only slightly lacking feature on his figure.

“Well–I, um, about that…” you started, grimacing at the way the words fell out of your mouth were scrambled under his intense gaze, “I have been thinking, but I mean, there’s a lot to think about. First off, while I believe Charlie really has something going on here with the hotel… I don’t think I fit the criteria.”

“Of course you do!” Alastor chuckled, as if you had just said the silliest thing to have graced his ears, “If a harlot and that slithering simpleton have a chance at leading a virtuous existence, then I'd say the cards are in your hands for that too!” 

You were about to open your mouth, before he leaned back into his chair, slipping his bandaged hand out of your grip and back to his side to inspect it carefully. 

“And, I’m quite confident you could find a more fulfilling job here at the hotel, instead of under that spineless wretch of a man,” Alastor continued, reclining back into the chair as he tilted his head in thought.

“Probably…”

“Not to mention, complimentary room and board? My, you’ve got a very tantalizing offer right in front of you, any sorry bloke off the street would be jumping at the opportunity you’ve been given.”

Was that true? Alastor was really selling this to you, and you reached up a hand to soothingly scratch your neck as you thought. Would it be so bad to stay here? 

Your thoughts from earlier this morning replayed in your head. There wasn’t anything specifically keeping you from denying the offer. You worked a dead-end job around people you were uncomfortable with, the place you were renting was small and falling apart, and you had nobody holding you back. Your friends were there, but weren’t close in your circle. Which kind of meant you didn’t have a circle… except these new demons at the hotel. You were warming up to them, and they weren’t too bad.

Did you really have a shot at redemption? Were you worthy of eternal happiness?

What if having such made you a laughingstock, what if joining these people made you a target of Heaven? That wouldn’t be good, and you were a nobody with no power that 

“Al…” You sighed with a groan, placing your head into your hands. Why did you have to be so indecisive?!

“Why don’t we make a deal?” Alastor's smile cracked wider, the curves of his lips becoming sharper as an unreadable expression crossed his eyes.

“A deal?”

“Just a simple thing,” He smiled innocently, leaning  “No contract or handshake necessary, I believe you are trustworthy to hold up your end with just words.”

God, he was super close to you now, practically nose to nose as he looked at you expectantly. A playful glint shimmered in his red monocle, and your breath hitched at his proximity. 

“What kind of deal?” You finally whispered, heat creeping onto your cheeks.

“You want to learn my interests, want a peek into my life above, hm?” He inched closer to you, smile widening as you leaned backward, “If I take you directly to the source, show you life as I lived it, then you must move to the hotel and stay for one month.”

‘Source’? What did he mean by that? And, if you agreed, you had to stay for a month? But, he was going to open himself up and share his past life with you, which meant a lot to you. 

His eyelids lowered again, something you had noticed earlier when he caught your ogling. Were they lowered in amusement? Some amateurs attempt at bedroom eyes? You could hardly think straight with how close he was to you, a hundred routes of where things could go next skimming through your mind.

Maybe that was just a delusion of yours, wanting Alastor to show more interest than just pretty flowers and a ring that he seemed to sport on you just for show. You barely knew the man, but his kindness and, oh, and that voice… you were just so impatient.

Alastor wasn’t a big physical romantic, you could tell. Which meant you needed to take things slow, respect his space and his pace. He flustered so easily when you complimented him, obviously new to the whole romantic thing in general, and that only made you want to do it again.

Which meant, it would be you that would have to make some moves this time. Even if they were small, it seemed any act of affection would send the deer demon into a tizzy. A kiss on the cheek? Too brazen. A flower crown for his antlers? A little too cottage-girly for him, perhaps.

“I enjoy your excitement at my proposition,” Alastor broke you from your thoughts, as he smiled widely at your dopey expression again, “But I’ll need you to agree with words, darling.”

You really needed to learn to keep your facial expressions in check, it was embarrassing how easily Alastor had been able to catch you mid-daydream so easily. 

“...Okay.” You finally whisper, and energy crackles inside the room right as the words leave your lips.

“Wonderful!” Alastor beamed, rising from the chair in one smooth motion, his good hand wrapping around your forearm suddenly before pulling you up beside him.

Blinking, you felt him slip an arm around yours before tugging you across the room. The jazz from the radio seemed to increase in volume the closer the two of you stepped closer to the pocket dimension a few feet away.

You halted right at the edge, the croaking from the frogs, and distant calls of the owl grew louder as you lifted your head towards the looming trees. The sky was starless, a large, dark blue shadow masking the scene at night as the fireflies danced. What was Alastor planning?

“Just a moment, I need to grab my cane,” he left your side, walking back to the fireplace as your gaze stayed frozen on the swampy atmosphere ahead. 

You leaned forward, trying to get a better look around the weird little pocket-dimension. Even the air inside changed, you could practically taste the humidity in the air as it began to stick to your forehead.

Did the grass still feel like grass, even in a powerful illusion like this? You had no idea Alastor was capable of this kind of magic, especially such vivid scenery. Slowly, you lifted a foot over where brown wood melted into greenery, still hesitant to touch the strange grass.

You held a breath as you crossed the threshold, the sounds of grass crunching beneath as you walked into the wetland. You could feel the water in the soil squelching as you walked slowly, towards nowhere in particular as you twisted your head at the unfamiliar area. 

Thick, swampy vines curled around large trunks and snaked into deep, mucky waters. The way was illuminated by the flickering bodies of fireflies as they danced almost rhythmically to the soft jazz in the background. Sometimes, the surface of the water nearby would ripple, and you swore the shadow of a long body of something stalking underneath the surface passed right next to you.

When you turned to face the line of trees in the distance, two pairs of glowing, yellow eyes met yours. A silhouette of a four-legged creature, tall with branching antlers that tickled at the leaves above its head. The two of you locked eyes for a few moments, and you opened your mouth slightly in awe as it stood elegantly before you.

“My, you are quite a wanderer!” A chipper voice exclaimed behind you, and you pivoted with a yelp to face the static-laced voice smiling softly toward you.

“This place is really amazing,” you laughed, twisting your head to find the buck had disappeared, “It actually feels like we’re back on Earth, almost.”

“It gets better,” Alastor hummed beside you, extending a hand that you accepted with gentle fingers as he grasped you softly.

“Well, how do I look?” He leaned closer to you, puffing his chest slightly as you skimmed across his pretty figure.

Your hands tentatively lifted to adjust the slightly angled black bowtie near his collar, and Alastor only watched you carefully as you fixed it back into place. 

“Perfect,” you sang with a smile, and he mimicked your expression with glee.

“Always a charm, my doe.” Alastor winked, before he slid his arm through yours once more and stood shoulder-to-shoulder beside you. 

His smile was playful, as he glanced at you standing tense beside him. You had a sneaking suspicion he was going to teleport you again, or do something magically stomach-twisting that had you wishing for a paper bag on the side.

“Now, close your eyes…” 

You followed his instruction, squeezing them shut with a deep breath.

You barely had time to exhale before the wind around you turned to a deathly chill, and the humidity was zapped from the air as that familiar feeling of weightlessness had you tightening your hold on Alastor.

You felt him shifting beside you, although you couldn’t imagine into what as your eyes stayed shut tight, cold gripping at your shoulders. It felt like the ground was alive, transforming right beneath you with barely a tremble as you held your breath tightly. 

Then, your ears popped and you felt the grass beneath your feet shift to firm, rocky pavement. There was music, jazz again, but this time the words were audible as women's voices sang with the bumping rhythm. 

‘I’m just a little Jackie Horner,’

‘Since I met my sugar cane,’ 

“Are you going to keep your eyes shut the entire time?” Alastor prodded beside you, his tone laced with amusement as you relaxed slightly at the sound of his voice. 

Taking a deep breath, you crack an eyelid, the darkened atmosphere easy on your vision as you slowly open your eyes to reveal a scene straight out of a history book. 

You were standing in the middle of a cracked, paved road, illuminated by a stretch of tall lamps that cast warm orange tones across the street. Buildings with tall shutters for windows beckoned an invisible finger for you to follow, as spicy, southern food hit your nostrils and the sounds of riled entertainment reached your ears.

‘I left a light lamp on that old corner,’

‘For the moon in lover’s lane,’ 

They all held porches that spanned the entire front of the house-sized buildings. Darkened, silhouetted figures laughed above your head, as you stood there in awe. 

There were a few cars parked on the sides of the street, with thin, flimsy wheels reminding you of distant times when vehicles were just starting to reach the public eye. 

It really felt like you had stepped into the past, everything reminisced to a world before TVs, social media, and WiFi. When newspapers and radios ruled supreme, people came together and danced on the streets instead of dancing behind the camera on silly apps. 

‘When I take my sugar to tea,’ 

‘All the boys are jealous of me,’ 

“Welcome to New Orleans in Roarin’ Twenties!” Alastor beamed beside you, gesturing to the long row of storefronts, the air humming with lively energy and pulsing with vibrant rhythms of tunes long forgotten. 

You jumped at the sound of a baritone horn blaring from beside you. A steamboat filled with flickering lights and singing, boisterous voices chugged past you, its large wheel churning as water cascaded from the paddles. 

A figure turned to you, masked in shadows before they raised an arm and waved across the water towards you. Your lips curved wider with a smile, before lifting a cautious hand and returning the gesture.

‘When I take my sugar to tea,’ 

‘All the boys are jealous of me,’ 

You felt someone bump into your shoulder, another one of those mysterious figures that filled the street. 

“‘Scuse me, miss,” the stranger tipped his hat apologetically to you, bowing slightly as he brushed by.

‘So I never take her where the gang goes,’ 

‘When I take my sugar to tea,’

You twisted your head to finally get a good look at the strangers around you, before your eyes widened at the sight of a doll-like man, his mouth sewn into a wide smile. Black buttons glinted at you from where his eyes should have been, as the man placed his hat back on and turned away. 

You didn’t have time to process the sight before Alastor was pulling you down the street, a live band played outside one bar, the paint mashing keys to a much faster rhythm as two women swung each other across the sidewalk with laughter and the clicking of heels. 

Alastor pulled you along until the two of you stopped at a bakery storefront. Shadowed puppets flowed around you, as your eyes landed on a steaming plate of deep-fried goodness sitting patiently on a table right outside the doorway. 

“Beignets,” He hummed, handing you a pastry, “A cultural classic in these parts.”

‘I’m a rowdy dowdy, that’s me,’

It reminded you of a tiny pillow, sugar coating its surface as you squished the crunchy delicacy before lifting it to your lips.

Taking a bite, the warmth of the bread bloomed across your body as the food traveled down your throat. Your tongue reached out to swipe at the leftover sugar hanging on your lips, as you smiled with pleasure. 

‘She’s a high hat baby, that’s she,’

Alastor only watched you with a soft expression, a hint of amusement in his eyes as he watched you fill your mouth.

“You seem to be enjoying that,” he remarked, a hint of satisfaction in his voice.

You nodded enthusiastically, your mouth still partially occupied by the delicious treat. “It’s amazing! I’ve never tasted anything like it before,” you exclaimed, your words muffled by the pastry.

“Well, there’s a lot of things you have yet to experience, my doe!” He sang, before tugging you along with a static-laced chuckle.

As the two of you strolled down the bustling street, your eyes caught a small crowd surrounding a man in a tall, black hat as he smiled charmingly at the audience.

The magician, dressed in a dapper suit adorned with intricate patterns, stood before a small crowd, his hands moving with precision and finesse as he dazzled onlookers with his feats of magic.

Curiosity piqued, you and Alastor paused to watch the spectacle unfold. The magician’s fingers danced across a deck of cards with effortless grace, manipulating them in ways that seemed impossible. Cards vanished into thin air only to reappear in unexpected places, leaving the crowd gasping in amazement.

Alastor only glanced at you unamusingly, and you laughed softly at his facial expression. Magic card tricks were nothing in comparison to what he was capable of, and you were sure he could wow this illusionary crowd in a heartbeat.

The two of you turned, halfway down the street now, as Alastor pointed at a few different sights. He even introduced you to instruments you’d never heard of before as the two of you continued on. 

“Have you ever performed?” You turned to him, another southern treat in your hand as you kept pace underneath the gas-lit lamps above. 

“On the streets? No, not like this,” Alastor shook his head, his nails clicking against his cane rhythmically with the music wafting from a bar nearby as the two of you stood near the edge of the river. 

You had gotten your hands on a small cup of Duchess Potatoes, a light, creamier version of the classic spud. Placing a small spoonful in your mouth, you swirled the flavors across your taste buds as you watched Alastor stare out at the open expanse of water.

“Once in a while, I’d stop at an old friend of mine’s jazz club, and on the nights I had a few extra drinks in my system, I'd lend my voice to the flappers as they danced.” 

“That sounds like fun!”

“It was,” He nodded, recounting the memories with amusement, “Mimzy would always tease me that I'd make better use as a flapper than a radio host. Sometimes, I think about life if I would have 

You laughed softly, imagining such a scene of Alastor dancing in a high skirt and fishnets. 

It wasn’t until the doors to a bar at the end of the street burst open, and large instruments were dragged through the threshold and out into the streets. Men gathered, readying their musical weapons for another nightly show as onlookers turned their attention to them. 

“Do you hear that?” He asked with a large, devilish smile as he turned to face the small crowd gathering. Couples glided in, teasing each other as they paired around the pianist and his band of stringed instruments. You watched his ears twitch slightly, twisting towards the rising noises.

“It looks like they are all going to dance!” You replied next to him, and Alastor turned to see interest gleaming in your gaze. He watched you for a few moments, before his crimson eyes landed on a trolly that was moving its way down the large street and towards the band.

You felt fingers lace around your wrist, and the gentle tugging from beside you as you met Alastor’s mischievous gaze.

“Let’s make sure we don’t miss it, then!” He winked, before he pulled you towards the lumbering vehicle. 

With wide eyes, you watched Alastor take a running start and gracefully leap onto the back of the trolley, hanging tightly to the railing as he beckoned for you to join.

You watched for a moment, before taking a deep breath and running to catch up with the trolly. Laughing, you reached out a hand to grasp Alastor’s as you closed in on the back of the vehicle.

You felt a sizzle of magic drag you an inch forward, and your fingers laced with Alastor’s as he pulled you beside him. He snaked one hand securely around your waist as you leaned out from the side of the vehicle, the wind whipping against your face as you watched the street lights flicker past. 

“I used to time myself on how fast I could make it on,” Alastor’s voice broke you from your awe, and you turned your head to meet his gaze, “I’m not sure if I've improved since my younger days.” 

You only smiled softly, the proximity of his touch hot on your mind, but you didn’t speak a word as the trolley continued on its path, the bar’s lights flashing with life as you beelined towards it. 

The trolley was fast, as it sped by the large steamboat, which honked as if in greeting to the passing vehicle. The trolley replied with a jingle of its own, before the boat disappeared farther down the river.

The trolley began to slow a few feet from the band, which you were thankful for, unsure if you had the physical form to tuck and roll successfully had you needed to make a quick exit.

Alastor landed on the pavement with a thump, twisting his grip so he could help you down with both hands firmly placed at your sides. 

“Let’s hurry before we miss it!” He sang, before pulling you along towards the crowd. The pianist thrummed the keys, inciting the dancers to twirl faster and they were lost in a hypnotic bustle of bodies fluidly maneuvering against each other. The sounds of shoes hitting pavement echoed along with the drumming beat, twisting in a tune of its own creation as you and Alastor moved closer.

But, why did it look like he was going to pull you in the center? Weren’t the two of you just going to stand back and watch? 

You didn’t have time to answer your own questions before you were in the center of the dancing couples. You froze with the spotlight on you, the jazz ringing in your ears as your shoulders softly pumped to the music.

Alastor took your hands carefully, his legs beginning to move in practiced motion as you stood there awkwardly.

“I can’t dance!” You squeaked. 

“It’s the Charleston, darling!” His voice cut through the romping rhythm, sending you a charming grin as he began to move his feet, “It’s not too hard, just follow my lead!” 

Taking a deep breath, you tried to steady your nerves as you focused on Alastor’s movements. His feet moved with precision and fluidity, his body swaying effortlessly to the beat of the music. You tried to mimic his steps, clumsily at first, but with each passing moment, you found yourself growing more confident as you fell into sync with his rhythm.

As the music swirled around you, you lost yourself in the dance, allowing Alastor to guide you with gentle precision. His hands were warm and reassuring against yours, his touch sending shivers down your spine as you moved together in perfect harmony.

The sounds of shoes hitting pavement echoed in time with the drumming beat, creating a hypnotic melody that seemed to envelop you in its embrace. The world around you faded away as you focused solely on the dance.

With each step, each turn, you felt yourself letting go of your inhibitions, allowing the music to flow through you like a river. You spun and twirled with glee, lost in the intoxicating energy of the moment, a smile spreading across your face as laughter bubbled up from deep within your chest.

As the song reached its climax, you and Alastor moved as one, your bodies intertwined in a symphony of movement and sound. In that fleeting moment, there was no past or future, no worries or doubts – there was only the here and now, the exhilarating rush of the dance, and the feeling of Alastor’s touch against your skin. 

As the music faded into the night, you found yourself breathless and exhilarated, your cheeks flushed with exertion and excitement. You turned to Alastor with a grin, your eyes shining with newfound confidence.

“I can’t believe I just did that!” You exclaimed, the thrill of the dance still coursing through your veins. Alastor chuckled softly, his gaze warm and affectionate as he tilted his head towards you. 

“You were marvelous, my dear,” he replied, his voice filled with pride. “But then again, I wouldn’t expect anything less from someone as extraordinary as you.”

You returned the smile, a breathless laugh escaping your lips as you swayed next to him. The music was beginning to die, the scene slowly falling away as the grass began to replace the tiled, stone pavement under your feet. 

Never did you imagine you’d find yourself dancing near glistening waters, eating the delicacies that the human world once had to offer. 

Never did you imagine, Alastor would be such a good dancer! And, dancing with you, no less! 

“I think my hunger for information has been quenched, for now,” you smiled playfully, eyes locked onto Alastor as the world around you shifted. 

“Good,” Alastor smiled satisfactorily, before a mischievous glint reflected through his monocle, “Now… I believe it's time to hold up your end of the deal.” 

Right. The part where you had to move into the hotel. One month. Not a year, not forever, just one month. Couldn’t you decide by then? 

Yes, you could. You could come to a decision now, honestly, but something else was itching at the back of your mind. An act of affection that would no doubt get a reaction from the demon in front of you. 

“I think you’re onto something…” You nodded slowly, pulling Alastor's hand toward you with a sly smile.

Alastor’s eyebrows furrowed at your behavior, as his fingers lifted closer and closer towards your lips. 

With gentle reverence, you pressed a soft kiss to each of his fingertips, your lips lingering against his skin for a moment longer than necessary. Alastor’s breath caught in his throat, a startled look crossing his features as he watched you with wide eyes.

Finally, the roles had reversed. 

For a brief moment, the world seemed to stand still as you held his hand in yours, your lips leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The touch of your lips against his skin sent a fire igniting inside Alastor, one he was struggling to contain. 

A flush of color spread across his cheeks, a rare display of vulnerability that took you by surprise. His usual composed demeanor faltered for just a moment, revealing the depth of emotion hidden beneath the surface.

“Y-you…” Alastor stammered, his voice barely above a whisper as he searched for the right words. But before he could find them, he was interrupted by the sound of laughter echoing in the distance, the moment broken by the world slowly shifting around you.

Clearing his throat and regaining his composure, Alastor withdrew his hand from yours with careful movements. 

“Well, I suppose we should be getting your things,” he said, his tone carefully neutral. But the faint blush on his cheeks betrayed the lingering effects of your gesture.

Behind him, the fireplace illuminated the non-magical side of Alastor’s room, the vintage clock displaying arms that had barely moved an inch since you left on your little adventure. 

“Seems so,” you replied with a honeyed tone, batting your eyelashes at him as he adjusted his bowtie with clumsy fingers.

If you had looked down while flustering the poor man, you’d have noticed his tail high, white fur on full display behind him. Instead, you brushed past him and back into the confines of normalcy.

awwww man, we made it, alastor finally has his girl staying at the hotel! and a lil kissy kiss :3

i hope you guys could understand what was going on lmao i spent like an hour or two looking up pictures of new orleans, southern food, and steamboats 😂

thank you with your patience on this part, have a great day! 🤍

tags 1/2 🏷️

@the-tortured-poet @anonymousewrites @coleisyn @froggybich @chewbrry @watchinthestarz @mechanicalmari @luxmessorem @kottenox @cherry-cola-100 @the-shark-named-sharon @rae-pottah @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @corpsebridenightamare @pweewee @nijiru @ourfinalisation @anuttellaa @nonetheartist @bunnypeew @cryptidghostgirl @hxzbinwrites @lunaramune @enigmatic-blues @thytorturedpoet @vanhelsingsbigtoe @mixplara @blue122 @zardward @loser-bby @sirens-and-moonflowers @diaouranask @luzzbuzz @theredviolets @the-attention-whore @girl-nahh-two @moonmark98 @asianfrustration13 @fairyv-ice @missam @beezgobuzzbuzz @valentique @dory-98 @mo-0-o @willow404 @karolinda007-blog @nightreverie @luujjvi @amoraneuro @kimmikreates

[wcbblife]

You & Me

a/n: finally finished my pazzi draft yall... hope you enjoy

Warnings: kinda nsfw at the end so read at your own risk.

Summary: Paige can't help but get a little a jealous when she sees Azzi with another man. So, she decides to talk to her.

_

Paige knew it wasn’t her place. It really wasn’t.

But she couldn't suppress the ugly feeling tugging at her heart as she watched Azzi double over in laughter while talking to someone—a freshman—from the men’s team. The way Azzi's fingers lightly caressed his bicep to stop the flow of jokes spilling from his lips. The way he smiled at her, letting his other hand land on top of hers.

It was only when Aubrey nudged her shoulder and whispered, "You’re staring too hard, bro," that Paige finally broke out of her trance.

She knew she shouldn’t storm up to them and separate them with a nasty shove to the guy. She knew she should just sit tight and look pretty while the cameras were likely pointed toward her or the dancers in front of her. The nails on her hands were digging into her arm, no doubt leaving marks. She just couldn't tear her eyes away, no matter how hard she tried.

“What?” Paige cleared her throat, suddenly feeling shy. Her tough exterior would only get her so far with her best friend, who knew her too well.

“I said the three-point contest is about to start.” Aubrey snickered, walking away to join the blue team.

“Shut up,” Paige murmured, following closely behind. By the time she got together with her team, Azzi was lost in the sea of white and dark blue, and Paige had no way of knowing if the man was still close to her. She didn’t get any time to sit and think about it, being whisked around to get ready for the contest.

Almost immediately, she hears the sounds of the net swishing and the basketballs hitting the rims. After a bit, her eyes land on none other than Azzi. She watches closely as Azzi makes shot after shot with little to no problem, much to the amusement of the crowd. The smile on Azzi’s face after releasing the last ball makes Paige swoon, and she glances around, hoping that it would help the blood pooling in her cheeks to dissipate.

The only problem is that she sees Azzi moving back to let the next participant go, the man steps up to her, nudging her shoulder, and leaning down due to their significant height difference to whisper something. Paige knows it's a compliment or something along the lines of “I could never do that,” as she watches Azzi’s dimples just barely show.

The feeling gnaws even harder at Paige, causing her to drum her fingers impatiently against her thighs and her jaw to tighten. She can't help but notice how Azzi never moves away, and how they seem to brush against each other every time they sway side to side while waiting for the contest to finish.

Caroline walks up to them and starts a conversation, which—much to Paige’s relief—causes him to move away a bit. Azzi’s eyes move between the two before finally locking onto Paige, who is still staring. Azzi smiles at something Caroline says, licking her lips and fixing her pants, still zeroed in on Paige. This causes Paige’s heart to thrum uncontrollably in her ribcage, even when Azzi’s eyes go back to Caroline and the guy.

It knocks what little patience and focus Paige had straight out of her body.

“Dude! Seriously, how many times do I have to call you to stop gawking?” Aubrey stands in front of her with an incredulous smile. “Make it at least a bit less obvious, will ya?”

Paige lets out a breathy laugh, scratching her head. “I need to get outta here, bro.”

“Tell me about it,” Aubrey jokes back. “Might just walk right on out.”

“Yeah, right. And let Geno scream at us next practice? No thanks.”

Aubrey chuckles. “Hey, I’m not the one desperate to get outta here for their girl—” Paige cuts her off with a light nudge, causing Aubrey to burst into laughter.

“Stop it, dude.” Paige sulks, looking around for Azzi again, feeling her stomach drop at seeing her absent from her last spot.

“Relax. We’ll be done in a bit.”

Paige knew better. She knew it was in her best interest to heed Azzi’s warning of “don’t be so obvious in public.” She knew she should be on her best behavior with so many eyes on them, acting like they were nothing more than friends.

She also knew she shouldn’t feel so stupidly useless and jealous when Azzi talked to someone else because they weren’t officially a thing. They hadn’t slapped a title on it yet.

Ugh, she thought, as she smiled prettily for the group picture, wrapping a friendly arm around her teammates. Paige made a mental note to bring it up at a better time.

“Alrighty everybody,” a woman in the middle of the court chirped, “We’ve officially ended the first night! Make sure you exit in an orderly manner and we hope to see you next year.” The crowd erupted in a mix of cheers and applause as the athletes started making their way out of the court and into the tunnels.

Paige made a beeline to her locker room, hoping to catch Azzi alone, but once she arrived, she found herself alone. One by one, her teammates trickled into the room—courtesy of Nika texting in their chat to meet there—and it wasn’t until Paige actually got up to search for Azzi that she found herself face-to-face with her.

Azzi was giggling when she entered, and Paige let out a breath of relief. Her hands fidgeted, muscles twitching under her skin to reach forward toward Azzi once she met her big brown eyes, but like she had done all night, she held herself back.

Instead, she walked wordlessly into the team huddle, her breath catching a bit as Azzi slotted herself right next to her, wrapping her hands around Paige’s waist. She tuned out the remainder of Geno’s speech as Azzi found the audacity to toy with the stretch band of her shorts, pulling on it. She slipped a finger into the edge of them, and when Paige looked over at her, she was smiling cheekily.

“Alright, now get out of here. I'm tired,” Geno ended his speech, and the girls screamed. Azzi dragged Paige into the team where they all did a short chant before finally walking out of the room.

Finally, they reached a quieter part of the complex. Azzi pulled Paige into an empty room, away from prying eyes.

As they made their way through the tunnels, Paige’s heart raced. The crowded hallways buzzed, and she tried to keep her cool.

Azzi stayed close, their fingers brushing every now and then, sending shivers down Paige’s spine.

She couldn’t wait to get a moment alone with her.

“Azzi,” Paige muttered.

“Yeah?” Azzi's eyes fluttered, looking up at Paige.

“We gotta talk.”

Azzi smirked, “We do?” she teased, stepping closer, her hand grazing Paige's arm. “What about?”

Paige's breath hitched. “You know what about.”

Azzi chuckled softly, leaning in until her lips were mere inches from Paige’s. “You always get so serious,” she whispered, her breath warm against Paige's skin. “Maybe I like seeing you like this.”

Paige's heart pounded, her resolve weakening by the second. “Azzi, please…”

“Please, what?” Azzi’s voice was low, almost a purr. She backed Paige against the wall, her hands sliding up Paige’s sides, sending shivers down her spine. “Please stop? Or please don’t stop?”

Paige swallowed hard, her mind racing. “We need to figure this out,” she managed to say, though her voice wavered.

Azzi’s eyes softened for a moment before the teasing glint returned. “Okay, let’s figure it out,” she said, her tone playful. “But maybe we start with this.”

Azzi pulled back slightly, her forehead resting against Paige’s. “We’ll talk,” she promised, her voice a soft murmur. “But right now, let’s just enjoy this.”

Before Paige could respond, Azzi closed the distance, capturing Paige’s lips in a slow, tantalizing kiss. Paige's world tilted, the kiss overwhelming her senses completely as she melted into Azzi, her hands finally finding their way to Azzi’s waist, pulling her closer.

Paige nodded, her heart racing almost painfully in her chest. “Yeah,” she whispered, a smile tugging at her lips. “Let’s enjoy this.”

Azzi grinned, her fingers trailing lightly up and down Paige’s arms, knowing the blonde liked it a little too much. “You’re so cute when you’re trying to be serious,” she teased. “I can’t help but want to mess with you a little.”

Paige felt a blush creep up her neck. “Azzi, come on…”

Azzi’s smile widened. “What? I’m just having a bit of fun. You like it, don’t you?” She leaned in, her lips brushing against Paige’s ear. “Admit it.” Her fingers slip under the hem of Paige’s shirt, tracing patterns on her skin.

Paige’s eyes fluttered shut, her head tilting back. “Maybe,” she admitted reluctantly.

Azzi’s laughter was soft and warm. “Thought so.” She moved even closer, her body pressing against Paige’s.

Paige tried to steady her breath. “I didn’t like seeing you with that freshman,” She confessed softly, looking away.

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Oh, is that what this is about? You were jealous?”

Paige's blush deepened. “Maybe.”

Azzi chuckled, her breath warm against Paige’s neck. “You don’t have to worry about him. He’s just a kid.” Her lips brushed Paige’s ear again. “Besides, I only have eyes for you.”

Paige's heart skipped a beat. “Really?”

“Really,” Azzi whispered, her lips trailing down to Paige’s collarbone. “You’re the one I want, Paige. Always have been.”

Paige’s breath got caught as Azzi’s lips met hers again, more passionately this time. The jealousy, the confusion, it all melted away. This was what she wanted, what she needed. And finally, they were on the same page.

Azzi, feeling the effect she had over Paige, decided to push a little further. “You know,” she murmured against Paige’s lips, “seeing you all worked up was kind of a turn-on.”

Paige’s eyes widened. “Azzi…”

“What?” Azzi’s grin was wicked at this point. “I like knowing no one else can have this kind of effect on you but me.”

Paige’s breath came faster, her pulse pounding in her ears. “You’re unbelievable.”

Azzi’s hand slid lower, making Paige gasp. “Admit it. You love it when I tease you.”

She could barely form words, her thoughts were a mush of everything. “I… I do,” she finally managed, her voice barely a whisper.

"Good girl.”

Paige was helpless to resist, surrendering completely to Azzi. 

[rebelfell]

Okay, I have some final (for now) thoughts on the two of them… 18+, MDNI 4.5k

older!fem!Harrington!reader x eddie munson

cw: blood/minor injury, pregnancy scare

eddie's interlude here, index here

The guilt is practically dripping off you as you slip back inside the house. It clings onto you like your damp dress, thick and viscous like Eddie’s spend that sticks between your thighs. It falls off of you in heavy droplets that splatter on the hardwood floors, creaking deafeningly loud when you try and make a break for it up the stairs.

The dishwasher is running in the kitchen, its low hum and the agitating water inside the only sounds in the darkened, still house.

Until someone clears their throat. 

“You have a nice walk?”

Your foot hovers over the bottom step and you flinch as a lone light flicks on in the living room, illuminating Vivian where she sits on the couch. And you don’t even attempt to explain yourself.

Because in less than a second, your sister seems to have surmised everything.

From one glance of you standing there dripping wet in her foyer, the dress that she bought you basically ruined, she can easily guess at your litany of crimes against decency. 

It’s why she was the Valedictorian and you weren’t voted Most Likely To anything.

She stands and strides towards you, the shiny material of her silk pajama set swishing around her legs with every step. Every inch of your skin burns with white hot humiliation under her gaze.

“Viv, I…”

She lifts her hand and you fall silent at the sight of the folded piece of paper between her fingers.

Instantly, you want to touch the pocket you thought you had slipped the note inside, even knowing it must be empty. She looks you over with stern eyes and holds it out for you to take.

“Get cleaned up and come back down,” she says.

You take advantage of her vagueness by getting in the shower. You let the scalding water run over your skin until it’s starting to tingle approaching numbness. You scrub Eddie from between your legs until he’s swirling down the drain along with the mud and bits of grass stuck to your feet.

You never meant to be gone as long as you were.

It wasn’t a plan. You really, genuinely believed you could go say a decent goodbye to Eddie and still be back to help Viv clear the table before she even noticed you were gone. 

And maybe you would have, had you not been so reluctant to leave his side.

You could have laid there forever with your head on his chest, listening to the rain with one ear and the beat of his heart with the other. With his hand cradling your head, his fingers stroking the nape of your neck like he was playing a song.

He didn’t try to convince you not to leave—at least not in so many words.

He said ‘I wish’ a lot, almost like he was casting a spell. I wish you could stay. I wish I could go with you. I wish things were different.

But his incantation doesn’t change anything.

He’s still got school to finish. Not to mention his friends, his band, his uncle—his life.

It’s all here and yours is there.

The hot water won’t hold out long enough for you to avoid what’s waiting for you downstairs, so you finally pull a waffle weave robe over your raw skin and tie it too tight around your waist.

When you return, Vivian is waiting in her seat at the far end of the dining room table. 

In front of her sit two glasses, clear crystal ones filled with two fingers of brown liquor. It’s not the garnet-colored port she takes in the evening, and you can smell the oaky top notes of some surely expensive bourbon that’s probably been in a decanter in John’s office for years.

She says nothing when she sees you, just nods at the seat adjacent to hers. 

You take it and sit there silently, waiting for all the admonishments you know are coming.

It’s all the same things you’ve been hearing in your head the entire summer—any spare moment that wasn’t filled with Eddie was riddled with that bitter, berating voice that sounded suspiciously like your mother’s coming from deep in the furthest recesses of your mind.

What were you thinking? How could you do this? You’re humiliating our family, you’re destroying our reputation, you’re making a mockery of all that we’ve built—everything we’ve worked for. You might as well go to the cemetery and spit on your father’s grave. That’s how much respect for him you’re showing, you spoiled, selfish—

“Did I ever tell you about my swim lessons?”

Her voice is soft. So soft, you have to look at her to be sure she really spoke. 

And even then, you’re not entirely convinced.

“Your…” You shake your head, confused. “Viv, you were all-state in swimming. What are you—”

“It was the summer we had the pool resurfaced. I started going to the country club with the girls instead. And there was this lifeguard.”

She swirls the glass on the table in front of her, the facets in the crystal catching the low light.

“He was young. Handsome. He came on to me so strongly, he was so…brazen.” The corners of her lips curled in a barely-there smile at the thought. “And I knew it was inappropriate, but I couldn’t bring myself to stop. I liked the attention too much, I suppose.”

You study the side of your sister’s face as she raises her glass and drinks. You knew things with her and John weren’t ideal, much as she tried to pretend they were. But you never imagined…

“He said he could give me private lessons. That he knew a hotel where we could meet with a pool we could use. It, um…it went on much longer than I’m proud to admit.”

She downs another swallow of her bourbon, finishing off the glass. You stare down at yours with tears threatening to well in your eyes as you speak and you try not to let them fall.

“It’s not just about attention, Viv,” you say. “He’s special. He’s important.”

Her lips purse and she nods mutely. 

“Maybe so. But you’re not stupid.” She tilts her head at you, coaxing you to meet her eye line. “I think you know this can’t happen. I think that’s why you’ve still got that look on your face.”

The next day, you make the drive back to the city. Alone.

You get the keys to your new place and spend your first night eating pizza on the one piece of furniture in it—a mattress that had belonged to the old tenants, who left it for you so they didn’t have to haul it away. It’s not bad, considering it was free, and you weren’t exactly in a position to turn it down when your bed is being slept in by your ex and his mistress girlfriend.

On Saturday, you sit on the front porch and read, waiting for Steve to arrive in the U-Haul with the rest of your boxes and the scant amount of furniture salvaged from your old life. 

You wave when he pulls up, only for your hand and face to fall when a familiar head of dark curls tied down underneath his skull bandana pops out of the cab from the opposite side door.

His smile is as nervous as yours feels when he gives you a tiny wave, and you do your best to act normal as the three of you start to unload. You fail miserably, though, when you go to pass him a box and his hand grazes yours, nearly making it drop.

You don’t say more than two words to one another the entire morning, never managing to find a moment where Steve is out of earshot. But you feel his eyes on you and can hardly keep your own off of him. By the afternoon, his white tank is nearly translucent with sweat, darkened patches of it sticking to his spine and ribs, the lines of his tattoos showing through the soaked material.

He stops periodically to tug it from his chest, trying to get some airflow. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was trying to torture you.

Steve finally takes a break, sitting outside on the porch swing and draining a bottle of water. You’re in the kitchen, unpacking boxes of dishes when you feel Eddie’s familiar presence behind you.

Tucked away into the little nook in front of the door that leads out to the garage, you’re only just out of sight of the living room. It’s the first time all day Eddie’s felt safe enough to approach you.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, coming to stand beside you. “He just asked if I was busy today. I swear, I didn’t know what we were doing until I got there.”

You glance over your shoulder, keeping an eye and an ear out for your nephew, and look back at Eddie with your skeptical brow and discerning eyes. God, how he’s missed that look. It takes everything in him not to kiss it off your face.

“And you didn’t try to get out of it?” you ask.

“I did,” he smirks. “Just not very hard.”

“Eddie—”

“I’m kidding,” he chuckles, his voice and gaze softening as he licks his lips and stares at yours. “I just…I wanted to see where you live. I wanna know you’re gonna be okay.”

Shit. 

There’s a pang in the center of your chest at his words, a jolt that runs through all the nerves in your hand as if it’s fighting to reach out for him. But the sound of Steve’s footsteps makes you shrink, pulling away. Eddie swallows hard and nods resolutely before he turns to leave.

As he does, his pinky just barely grazes yours. 

So light, you might not have believed it happened had you not seen it with your own eyes.

You feel that jolt again, that tiny tremor in your muscles as your brain demands for your hand to reach out and wrap around his wrist, dragging him back into you. But the screen door slams, jarring you out of your swirling thoughts.

Steve huffs as he drops one of the boxes in your living room and pokes his head into the kitchen.

“Coffee table is the last thing,” he announces.

“Shit, shit, shit—FUCK!”

Expletives fly out of both Steve and Eddie’s mouths as the table slips from Steve’s grasp. It makes Eddie wince as the rough wood digs into his hand and the sting of splinters makes him lose his grip. Its legs hit the floor and Eddie stumbles forward, his hand coming down on the glass top that shatters almost instantly. Blood dribbles from his hand and Steve stares in shock.

Panic makes your chest seize and you swoop in, helping Eddie to steady himself.

He doesn’t make a sound, but his arm trembles as you hold it tenderly to assess the damage. The deepest cut is across his palm and there are some others scratches and scrapes along his wrist, but nothing deep enough to warrant stitches and no glass embedded in them that you can see.

“Steve, drugstore—bandages,” you order curtly.

He grabs your car keys, already out the door as you’re leading Eddie to the kitchen.

At the sink, you rinse his arm and hand as best you can, but it’s difficult to see if there’s any glass or splinters in them as it’s still bleeding. Pressing a paper towel against it and telling him to hold it there, you leave to look for your tweezers and return with them and a bottle of antiseptic from the bathroom. You rinse the wounds again and clean them. Eddie hisses at the sting, but he doesn’t pull his hand back, leaving it laying in yours as you bend close to study his palm.

Out of your peripheral, you can see the way his chest expands as he inhales the scent coming off the top of your head. He swallows the urge to tell you how he missed that smell so much he bought a bottle of your shampoo. But it still doesn’t smell quite right. There’s something missing.

Something specifically, unmistakably you.

“I’m sorry about your table,” he whispers.

“Don’t be,” you chuckle. “You did me a favor, I kind of hated that thing.”

Eddie smirks, thinking you were trying to make him feel better, but it isn’t a lie.

The thing was hideous. A wedding present from some relative or another you’ve always secretly suspected hated you. But of course Viv would never let you throw away a gift…

He hisses again and winces as you pull out a shard of wood. You shush him gently, rubbing small circles with your thumb over the pulse point in his wrist, feeling how his was racing. Your own isn’t doing much better, still thrumming with the spike of adrenaline when you saw him fall, when the sound of class cracking blotted out all other thoughts besides HELP HIM.

It was so loud in the moment, but now it’s too quiet. The room is too still and he’s far too close for you not to be thinking about all of the other times he’s been this close. It’s all you can do to keep your mind on the task in front of you until you hear his soft intake of breath.

“You know,” he starts quietly, “you’re not that far from Hawkins…”

“Hold still,” you say, even though he didn’t move. 

“But I could visit you, we could still—”

“Eddie, please.”

The brokenness of your voice quiets him for the moment as you grab one of your clean dish cloths and start to wrap it around his hand, letting his blood seep into it. Staining it forever.

“This will do until Steve gets back,” you murmur, tying it off. “Too tight?”

He curls his fingers, testing it. You still can’t look directly at him, especially not when he speaks.

“Tell me why,” he says softly, his good hand coming up to brush the hair from your face with his knuckles. “I know you wanna be with me too, I just…I need to hear why not once and for all.”

His hand covers the side of your face, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb across the apple of your cheek. He watches your lashes, waiting for your eyes to lift and meet his, but you refuse to let them. They flutter as you stare at his other hand still being held delicately in yours, eyes stinging with tears you blame on the isopropyl alcohol.

“You’re so young,” you sigh. “You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You should be out in the world, you should be making the memories you’re gonna look back on when you’re my age.”

Eddie’s head shakes and his hand slips smoothly under the warm curtain of your hair. He grips the back of your neck and dips his head down to make you look him in the eye.

“What good are they if you’re not in them?”

The edge of the countertop digs into your ass as he presses you up against it. He fists the back of your shirt in his injured hand, bunching up the material as he kisses you ferociously. It’s the last ditch effort, the Hail Mary pass with no thought or logic behind it—just pure, unbridled hope.

There’s no noise that can make it to your brain over your heartbeat pounding in your ears—just the sound of please, please, please whispered against your lips in between feverish kisses and sighs you can’t stifle as his knee slots between your own. He grinds his thigh against your heat, relishing the way your body unravels for him—shuddering, clenching, convulsing with need.

Neither of you hear the door.

“What the fuck is this?!”

Yours and Eddie’s heads snap sideways, your lips breaking apart but your hands still grappling and tangled up in one another. Steve stands in the kitchen door, the plastic bag he got from the pharmacy on the floor with the gauze and medical tape rolling across the tiles.

“It’s her?!” he exclaims, his eyes so big it’s like they’re exploding. “She’s who you’ve been losing your goddamn mind over? You’ve been sneaking around behind my fucking back?!”

“Steve, listen—”

“It’s not what you—”

Both yours and Eddie’s pleas fall on deaf ears. Steve backs away, holding out his hands as if to strike nothing and then raking them through his hair and dragging it back as his mind spirals.

“Stop, stop! This is so fucked, this is crazy, this is crazy, this is crazy—”

He’s shouting at nothing in particular, not even able to look at either of you, but jerking his hands away when you try and reach for him. It seems to bring him back to the moment, horrifying as it is, and he turns his crazed eyes back on you, face overflowing with anger and shock.

“How could you do this?! What the hell were you thinking?!” 

He looks back and forth between you and Eddie and neither of you is sure who his question is even directed at. You can tell he wants to leave, wants to run, wants to drive home and maybe never look you or Eddie in the eye ever again. But he can’t. Because even when he’s the maddest at Eddie he’s ever been…he can’t leave his friend behind with no way home.

Or maybe he’s just staunchly opposed to leaving the two of you alone.

“Just finish up so we can go,” he snarls, crossing his arms across his puffed up chest.

He stands over you, fuming and glowering at you both as you wrap Eddie’s hand in gauze. None of you say a word. And once you’re done, Steve just shakes his head and stomps outside to the truck. Eddie’s head hangs low as he follows, stopping to squeeze your hand one last time.

Later that night the phone rings and you snatch it up off the cradle, clutching it to your ear. 

The drive helped Steve calm down, though he threatened to make Eddie get out and walk about a half-dozen times. His friend evidently spared him the grittier details, and he took responsibility for all of it—flirting with you, going after you so relentlessly, doing whatever he could to see you.

You stare down at the dishcloth still stained with blood and the guilt forms a lump in your throat. 

“He says he loves you,” Steve mutters into the phone. “Do you…I mean, are you…”

“It doesn’t matter,” you tell him quickly. “And this isn’t Eddie’s fault, either. I was supposed to be the one looking out for you and I let you down. I never should have let it go as far as it did.”

You took a deep breath, bracing yourself by gripping the frame of the door.

“I’m so, so sorry, Steve. I never meant for this to happen. I never meant for you to get hurt.”

The line goes quiet as Steve thinks. You can hear the heavy puffs of air he’s pushing through his nose and you bite down on your lip, fingers twisting up the phone cord as you wait.

“So it’s over, then?” he asks at last.

And there’s no way you could know this…but somehow you can sense that Eddie is there. 

You can almost see him sitting in the kitchen, his elbows on the table, hands folded into a fist he’s resting his chin on, kissing his knuckles as he listens to the conversation.

You look one last time at the rag beside you.

The blood has darkened in the past few hours, oxidized from exposure to the air. No bright red pulsing life left in it. Dead.

“Yes,” you say firmly. “It’s over.”

It takes a couple weeks for Eddie to stop calling.

The first few times, it’s just to check on you. To make sure you’re doing okay. To see how school’s going. It’s mostly harmless. But you know it will do so much more damage if you don’t cut it off now. So you finally find the fortitude you never managed to in the summer and tell him you shouldn’t talk anymore. That you can’t.

That it’s only going to make it worse.

You’ll forget, you tell yourself.

Eventually you’ll forget how his rough hands felt running up and down your sides; or how he would squeeze and grip you as he took you from behind, pulling you up so your body was flush with his and you would stretch your neck to kiss him over your shoulder; how he would cover his mouth to block a moan as you took him into your mouth and he would look at you with those eyes.

Those big, round, pretty eyes you can’t help but to see in every cup of coffee you pour. And by the next time you visit your sister, his smell will have been washed out of the guest room sheets.

Ironically, it’s right after you tell him you can’t talk to him anymore that you realize you’re late.

You know there’s no way that you’re pregnant. Between birth control and your age, the chances are infinitesimal. You know it has to be stress. You know it’s all in your head, this odd and off-putting sensation in your body. And the test you take is just a precaution, nothing more.

Still, you can’t help but cry when it’s negative.

Not because you wanted a different result, but because it makes you realize the only way you might have wanted a kid is if it was his.

Time goes by. You visit Hawkins for some holidays, but you don’t see Eddie. Viv finds out (and passes on to you as subtly as she can) that after he graduated he and his band decided to go on tour, heading for California and playing at any dive bar that will book them along the way.

Every couple months, Steve sends a postcard from whatever country he and Robin are currently terrorizing on their post-grad “summer abroad” that’s now going on two years. He doesn’t write much, lots of different thoughts strung together, things he saw that made him think of you. 

Always trying to say he was sorry without coming out and saying it.

Eddie’s name only gets mentioned once, after he met up with them at a music festival in Berlin. 

You sort of love the thought of him there.

You think he must fit in well with all of the other eclectics, the artists, the musicians. Months later, you get a package in the mail with foreign stamps on it. There’s no name or note inside, just a teddy bear in a shirt that says “I ♡ Deustchland.”

It sits in your bathroom window until the golden brown fur on his back half is bleached beige.

You date here and there. You even fall in love once in a while. It’s not forever, though. You don’t know if you even believe in “forever” anymore.

Or if you ever did.

You get back into the hobbies you let fall by the wayside after you got married. You finish a novel and the University Press wants to publish it. You get some money for it. Not a lot, but enough that when the head of your department is retiring and asks if you want to buy the house you’ve been renting, you can swing the down payment.

You paint and decorate every room precisely how you like it, with absolutely no one’s opinion to worry about besides your own.

You hang string lights in the backyard and host garden parties that are mostly a flimsy excuse to drink wine with your fellow professors and gossip about how all the other departments aren’t nearly as fun as yours. It’s during one of these you find out you’re on the short list for tenure.

It’s not a bad life. It’s a good life, even.

Full and realized and complete.

There are bad days and better days, but some things are always consistent. Leaves turn color in the fall. They pile on the ground under branches that are barren by winter, only to bud again in the spring. And summer always comes back around, the days getting warmer and longer.

It’s at the end of one of those days you find yourself still at school catching up on grading. Summer vacation has all but begun, most of the campus deserted with everyone scattering on all their varied adventures once finals were done.

Your feet are aching in your heels as you slump into the seat behind the desk up at the front of the classroom, the pile of exams making your eyes tense with a burgeoning migraine.

One not helped at all by the stifling heat.

Your department’s building is so ancient—in desperate need of some updates and lacking in all modern amenities like air-conditioning. You flap a hand in front of your face the whole way over to the window. It squeals in protest as it opens and chipped paint flies off in little shards of white.

A breeze wafts across your face, the scent of freshly cut grass filling your nose. It’s one you’ve always loved, but still can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness when you smell it now. The sound of a weed whacker below draws your eyes to the man using it, trimming the grass along the edges of the concrete path that runs between your building and the one next door.

And he is just…stunning.

Still young, but older now. Muscles still taught and defined in most areas, but getting softer in others. Instead of ratty cut-off shorts and a tank top touting some metal band, he’s dressed in dark coveralls emblazoned with the logo of a landscaping company—Fantasy Greenscapes.

His company, in case you couldn’t guess by the silhouette of a dragon on the logo.

The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, flashing familiar glimpses of black ink on alabaster skin. His hair is still long and wild, but he’s got it tied back and pushed out of his face with a pair of protective earmuffs. A pair of sunglasses shield his eyes, but the mirrored lenses are just about the same shade as the deep brown pools you know are behind them.

The blades on the weed whacker slow and stop completely when he pauses, taking a moment to take off his glasses and wipe his face with a skull bandana you’d know anywhere.

And as he does, his eyes drift up towards your classroom window. He smiles when he sees you, teeth flashing in that same grin you see every night in your dreams, and he lifts his hand to wiggle his fingers at you in a wave.

prev┃next

I just wanna say thank you to everyone who read this story, particularly those who took the time to reblog and comment with your thoughts/reactions. It's only because of you that this vague, nebulous idea somehow morphed into this thing that contains some of my favorite writing I've ever done.

And for that, I'm eternally grateful. I hope you enjoyed this final part. Love you, mean it xx

[mariespen]

Birthday Reunion ¡! ❞

bf!rafe cameron x daddy issues!reader ¡! ❞ warnings: swearing, drinking, implied drinking problems, implied body shaming, mentions of anxiety, degrading comments summary: “What did I do to deserve you..”

based on this request!

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Your light pink heels tapped down the long staircase of Tannyhill, the curved architecture giving you the perfect princess moment. The only difference was that instead of a ballroom of people at the bottom, it was simply your boyfriend, Rafe Cameron. It didn’t matter, though. People would have thought you were real royalty just by the way his jaw hung when he saw you in the pretty dress he picked out just for your birthday present. It swished around your thighs, bringing his favorite parts of your body to focus… maybe too far into focus.

Your soft giggle broke him out of his star-struck trance. You couldn’t help it, he looked so cute in his formalwear for your birthday dinner. Just as your heels touched down on the ground, Rafe swept you up into his loving embrace.

“Looking fuckin’ amazing, hm?” He said with a grin, love coating his gaze as he looked down at you. All you could do was giggle. 

You poor thing, he always left you speechless.

Rafe’s face softened. Any form of laughter that left your sweet, glossy lips was music to his ears. You kept him close to him for a while and he let you, of course. Tonight was supposed to be fun, a care-free date between you and Rafe. However, it was your mother’s genius idea to bring the family together and celebrate your special day, all together. A family reunion on your birthday.. why did Rafe let you agree to this?

“Gotta cover up..” He muttered, busying himself with your cardigan and handing you one of his bigger zip-ups.

“Thank you..” You said gently, letting him help you drape it over your shoulders to keep you warm.

“Mhm.. you ready princess?” Rafe asked cautiously, still prepared to call you in sick from this whole thing.

“Yeah..” You said, a small frown on your face as you wrapped yourself closer into his sweater.

“Okay, let’s go, yeah?” He said, obviously disappointed that you were so insistent on this, somehow still supporting you.

Rafe knew how these things played out. He could predict it now, keeping you close as the two of you tried to socialize awkwardly with your family and then eventually your father showed up. Usually it was late, most of the time he was already a little drunk, and there was a 100% chance that he was not going to leave the reunion sober by any means. That’s the basic routine besides the fact that in-between downing every drink on the table, your precious daddy would degrade you until you ended up right back in Rafe’s arms.

Right back where you’ve always belonged.

The car ride was silent besides your girlie music and the soft sound of Rafe’s hand occasionally brushing against your dress when he rubbed your thigh comfortingly.

You had a tendency to react poorly in anxious situations, he knew this for a fact. Rafe planned on keeping you very very close tonight.

Pulling up the prolonged driveway of your mother’s expensive house on figure 8 made you want to throw up. She moved from your old house into this atrocity of a mansion, so at least there weren't any prominent reminders of your lonely childhood. It comforted you enough to take Rafe’s hand and let yourself out of the car. 

The two of you winced as you walked up to the door. Neither of you really wanted to be there all that much, Rafe arguably hated it even more than you (which was impressive).

He reached over your head to knock on the door. Five hard knocks that echoed through the soft music playing within the house. Your eyes darted around the cars, thankful to not see your father there yet. Maybe he forgot, he could be so drunk off his ass that he forgot about you.

For the better, probably.

Your mom eagerly opened the door, instantly wrapping both you and Rafe in a tipsy yet somehow still loving hug. Rafe greeted her with a hesitant smile as you slowly worked up the motivation to plaster on your own faux smile for the rest of the night.

Then began the awkward greetings. Your aunt and uncle instantly greeted you, your aunt marvling at Rafe for maybe a second too long. He smiled kindly at them. Rafe had always been better at putting on a nice show. You were thrown around the room, embraced in many of your family’s drunken arms and sluggish greetings. Somehow, even through all of the commotion, Rafe’s gentle hand remained on your back.

Hours passed and you felt a gasp of relief leave you as you realized the reunion was nearly over and your father had yet to make a show. You stood near the front door with Rafe over your shoulder, giddy to leave the moment that the clock struck 9pm. 

You felt his hand come down to your waist and clutch you closer to him, causing you to flinch slightly in surprise. Your heart stopped, realizing quickly why his grip was so prominent on your side. 

Dragging himself into the house through the long, arched doorway was no one but your own father. His drunken gaze skimmed over the crowd before instantly dropping on you. One quick and judgmental up and down look comprised his purpose; to make your life hell.

His suit was too tight on his body as he breathed sharply and made his way over to both you and Rafe. You avoided Rafe’s gaze entirely, not wanting to witness the narrow stare of his eyes.

“Dad!” You said softly, beginning to pull away from Rafe until he pulled you right back to him. Your fake smile must have been obvious because all you got from your father was a scoff and a judgmental glance before he stumbled into the party.

Rafe was already urging you out of the door by the time your mother came to tell you that it was time for cake, “your favorite!” She said with a squeal, motioning to a chocolate ice cream cake. 

Which wasn’t your favorite, but you’ve learned not to care. 

You got ushered to the large dining room, Rafe shuffling behind you and looking ready to kill anyone who took one step too close to your shaking body. All of your family surrounded the table, leaving barely enough room for you to fit in next to your fast-melting cake

A short and unorganized rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ was sung by the slurred voices of your family as you stood quietly, shyly smiling and feeling Rafe’s comforting hand holding yours. More cake was brought out to provide for all of the guests as your mother happily laughed with drunken joy.

Your piece was brought to you, a smaller slice than most. As you leaned down to grab your fork, you felt the plate leave your weak grip. Standing up in an instant, you were ready to pout at Rafe and tell him to get his own slice. However, you were met by your father’s mean and unforgiving stare.

“You don’t need… this.” He said plainly, obviously scanning your outfit and figure.

Tears swarmed your eyes as he spat more at you. Over time you had learned to tune him out, but you hadn’t heard his words for months now, nearly a year. 

“It’s disgusting that you walk into your mother’s house looking like a slut.” He said with a scoff, either unaware of the tears dripping down your face or choosing to ignore them (it was the latter).

“Thank god you have a boyfriend, hopefully he keeps you in your place.” Your father sneered as you vaguely watched Rafe push through the crowd to get back to you after he was pushed away in the cake swarm.

“What did I do to deserve you?” Your stare was blank when Rafe finally got to you, shoving your father away without hesitation and taking your purse from your slouching arm as he pulled you away from everyone. Rafe’s grip on your body was persistent as he took you through the house, through the front door, and eventually through his car door. You were still trying to tune out everything that had happened, proving to be non-responsive when Rafe begged you to answer his questions.

“C’mon princess, tell me what he said.” Rafe said through gritted teeth as one hand gripped his steering wheel with white knuckles and the other softly brushed over your palm.

The world was silent, your eyes deep and dull and you stared down at your pink heels when Rafe took you into Tannyhill.

“Hey, baby.. talk to me.” Rafe said gently, his thumbs already flicking away your tears as the two of you sat on the luxurious couch. His pleading voice eventually got back into your head and you nodded softly.

“Oh sweetheart..” Rafe whispered, starting to say something else before you let yourself fall back into him and bury yourself into his warm body. You hid away from the spiraling world as he whispered into your ear.

“I got you, princess. I’m here.” “Want you to only listen to my voice, don’t let him stay in your head.”

“I love you, sweetheart.” His lips peppered two soft kisses against both of your rosy, swollen cheeks before more tears poured out of your eyes. You were slowly coming back to yourself and Rafe couldn’t fully tell if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

Your body came to you in small tremors, your poor shoulders shaking as your sweet and honey-like voice rasped over with deep sobs. Rafe held you close, whispering gently into your ear for a while, eventually feeling you relax into his arms.

“I’m sorry I… I just-“ You started, trying to apologize for your sudden outburst.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Focus on me.” Rafe said, kissing you softly and smiling as he felt your sticky lip gloss smear against his lips.

You smiled back, suddenly focused on the way he looked down at you, opening his mouth to tell you more.

“Aw look at that..” He said, kissing your smile and grinning into the gentle contact before pulling away.

“What did I do to deserve you..” He whispered with adoration in his eyes as he scooped you right back up and held you to his chest.

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[lordsukunas]

“tada!”

you step out of the dressing room, and, just like always, you are absolutely radiant. the room, once illuminated by the dim, warm ceiling lights is now practically shining with your natural glow.

the white dress is absolutely gorgeous on you. it hugs your frame deliciously, and satoru is weak — his eyes, hidden like a coward behind those dark glasses, trace the curve of your waist, the roundness of your chest and hips, the dip in your shoulders.

ethereal.

it’s as if it was made just for you. the material, the dye, the seamstress, the fashion designer — they must have had you in mind when they created this, because it suits no one else. no one will ever be able to pull off such a dress, not in a million years.

“uh, satoru?” oh, shit.

he blinks, then coughs, a huge grin spreading across his face. he hopes you don’t notice how pink his ears are. “i was payin’ attention, i swear! you look good– stunning, really.”

your lips, so soft and kissable-looking, curve up into a smile. “you just blanked out on me. if you don’t like the dress, you can just say that, y’know...” there’s a teasing lilt in your voice, and his ears burn just a bit hotter.

satoru quickly shakes his head, and he places his hands on your shoulders. your skin is warm, like it’s been kissed personally by the sun. “no, no! i love it. it suits you, and it’s your wedding, so it’s up to you.”

envy, a rare but absolutely repulsive feeling, curls up in his gut and ties it into knots. right. this is your wedding. you and nanami.

not him.

he steps back and filters you out of his infinity. he should remember his place.

you twist side to side, the expensive fabric swishing and dragging against the polished floors. “i know, but... you’re my best friend, and i really want this to be perfect. ken-ken–” (he knows you and nanami are well-beyond first-name basis by now, but the nickname catches him off-guard.) “–would likely think any dress i choose looks nice, but you’re a pretty harsh critic! remember when i went on a date for the first time and i had on that hideous dress with the bad zipper?”

“yeah.” he snorts, and some of the envy ebbs away, replaced by a warm fuzziness. his fingers were trembling trying to zip up the back of that dress, just for the thing to be broken. “you looked fucking ridiculous.”

“see? that’s my point right there!”

“you make me sound so mean.” satoru huffs, slapping a hand dramatically to his chest. “i’m a great guy! a perfect one!”

perfect for you.

you scoff, lifting the dress up a bit so you can easily walk over to your purse and find your phone. “mhm, sure. i’ll believe that when i attend your wedding next time.”

satoru slumps down on the loveseat, crossing one long leg over the other. “don’t need a wedding to prove i’m irresistible,” he grumbles.

out of the corner of his eye, he watches your fingers fly across the screen, and that small, adorable smile on your face tells him exactly who you’re texting.

and envy comes right back, bubbling up and settling in his throat, hot and acidic.

he’s right here. this is supposed to be about you and satoru. kento can wait. you see him when you go home, don’t you? in a few weeks, you’re going to spend the rest of your life with that man — can’t you make time for just your best friend?

“you telling nanami about the dress?” if you weren’t so absorbed in your phone, you might have noticed the strain in satoru’s voice.

you nod. “yeah, i wanna take a picture for him,” you say, going over to him. instinctively, you shift closer to him, already holding your phone up to take a photo, but you can feel his infinity pulsing against your side.

huh.

your brows knit together. “your infinity is on.”

“it’s always on.” he shrugs, as if him having his infinity up around his purpose in life is absolutely normal.

your hand moves to swat at his arm, only for it to press against the border of atoms. awkwardly, your hand falls limp into your lap. “yeah, but usually i don’t feel it.” a pause. “is everything okay? are you sick? if you wanna leave, we can, dress shopping can wait.”

the genuine concern in your tone strikes satoru right in the heart, and he swears it stops beating for a moment. he’s being an asshole, you didn’t do anything wrong. why is he pushing you away? how does he stop?

“... sorry.” he wraps an arm around your shoulders, yanking you in closer. your shoulder rests against his bicep, and the sides of both your thighs touch.

the gentle, refreshing smell of your perfume wafts into his nose. his eyes dart to the crook of your neck, where he knows it’ll be strongest.

“pose!” you nudge him, and he looks at the camera, an easy smile curving his lips. satoru’s glad for his glasses again — nanami won’t be able to see the lust in his eyes.

man idk ill lock in on this later

one-hundred forty-one. satoru picks another skull up, places it between both of his hands, and crushes it into dust. one-hundred forty-two.

he’s sorry, by the way. you’ll never know it, but he is.

the wedding was supposed to be last month. it’s been two weeks, four days, seven hours, thirty-six minutes, and twelve seconds. thirteen, since he’s been sealed in this box.

he isn’t going to sit here and mope about that... imposter getting one over on him. he’s done that enough, and he’s absolutely sure you’d make fun of him.

satoru was best-man. he was supposed to be by nanami’s side and congratulate both of you. itadori, megumi, kugisaki... they were supposed to be there, too. kugisaki as the flower girl, megumi as the ring-bearer, and itadori to play cheerleader.

it was supposed to be great.

but he didn’t go. couldn’t make the flight, because of course curse users decided to stir shit up the night he planned to leave.

that’s another reason for him to hate them. they’re always ruining the things he loves, taking and taking and taking–

one-hundred forty-three.

he’s running out of skulls to crush, and he’s already worked out for the day. it’s weird in here – after all the sweating he’s done, oddly enough, he doesn’t stink.

satoru sighs, laying flat on his back, bright eyes staring up into the void. do you hate him? you should.

he’s not a good person. he wanted– wants you, even after you and nanami started dating. even after the engagement. and, now, even after marriage. who yearns for something they can’t have? that’s pathetic!

but... forgive him, please.

forgive him for not attending your wedding, for not confessing sooner, for not sweeping you off your feet first, for not keeping his eyes and hands to himself.

satoru gojo loves you. always and forevermore. and he’s sorry.

unfinished :/

[bearyzdiary]

Lazy morning

Francis x reader

This diary entry contains…Fluff|established relationship|Baker x milkman is now my favorite thing to write for this man| Mentions of the doppleganger incident going on|Reader and francis are honestly the happiest couple in that damn complex.|

The quiet start to your morning was ruined by Francis's loud alarm clock. You groaned as you turned over and placed a pillow over your ear to block out the sound. The bakery was closed for the day due to some construction that needed to be done. You could hear Francis mumble a small apology to you as he turned off the clock.

The feeling of some weight being lifted off the bed made you take the pillow off your ear and place in back in its proper spot. Unlike you, Francis still needed to do his rounds for the day before he could come back home and spend the rest of it with you." If it makes you feel better, we can start the day together" You yawned out as you sat up. Francis nodded as he lazily looked through the closet for his work uniform.

"I wished I could take the day off but I'm aiming for perfect attendance for this week" he said as he pulled out the familiar set of white clothes. You got out a bed before stretching." I think you're doing a good job so far" you said as you fixed up your spot of the bed and slid your feet into the cupcake slippers Francis had bought you as a gift.

You followed Francis to the bathroom where you flipped the light out and turned to sink on." I hope I don't have to do many deliveries today. Half the people I deliver milk too don't even use it I bet" He mumbled out as he grabbed his toothbrush and wetted it. You grab the toothpaste before applying a good amount onto Francis's before putting some on yours.

"Milk isn't a favorite of lots of people. I don't even know why you bother to still bring it to them" you say before popping the toothbrush into your mouth. Francis shrugged as he brushed his teeth for a good 2 minutes before spitting the toothpaste into the sink.

"People claim to want to start to drink milk more but we know that never works out for long" He says as he grabbed his washcloth and began to start his skincare routine.

You nodded as you fill a cup with water and took a sip before swishing it around your mouth and spitting it back out into the sink, Rinsing the sink out in the process.

Once the two of you were done in the bathroom, you made your way to the kitchen where you didn't feel like cooking, so you decided to make two bowls of cereal." Did you want frosted flakes or are you feeling like cheerios?" You asked as grabbed the spoons and put them into the bowl.

"Cheerios" Francis said as he went to go put his shoes on by the front door. You grabbed the box before pouring some in a milk themed bowl you bought Francis one day when you went to the store.

You picked whatever cereal you liked and poured into a cake themed bowl that you bought yourself. You poured milk into both before setting them onto the table and taking a seat.

Francis joined you as he poked at his cereal a little before taking a couple of bites of it. "I'm a little worried., About the whole doppelganger thing" you say while taking a spoonful of cereal and eating it. Francis looked at you before giving you a weak smile.

"I know, it's pretty scary to think about. But hopefully that new doorman can do their job right and figure out who is actually a real person." Francis said as he finished off his cereal. You took your last bite before handing Francis your bowl as he gladly took it and placed them in the sink.

"I trust them. They seem to be very good at their job so!" you said, trying your best to think positive as you looked over Francis. His facial features were so easy to remember as you had seen it a bunch of times so you would know right away if it was a doppelganger.

"Now, I sadly must leave you here all alone so I can go give people their milk" he said as he began to walk to the front door. You followed after him like a lost puppy as you gave him a smile.

"Don't take too long! and take breaks also please dear" you say as Francis nods as he put on his hat before grabbing his keys as he turns to look at you. "I promise I'll take breaks" he says as you squint your eyes before holding out your pinky to him.

"Are you really about to make me pinky promise on this?" He chuckles before interlocking his pinky with you. "Yes, and you better not break it" you say before placing a small kiss onto his cheek.

"I think I deserve one on my lips" he said as he grabbed your waist and placed a quick kiss on your lips. You giggled as you tipped his hat a little." Be safe please, I wouldn't be able to handle the thought of one of those monsters getting you" you say as you fixed his hat back as he removed his hands from your waist.

"I can just throw a bottle of milk at them if they even thought about bothering me" he said as he unlocked the door and opened it. "I'll be back soon" he said as he stepped out, closing the door behind him.

You locked the door back up before sighing as you shuffled back to the living room and plopped onto the couch as turned the TV, At least you could watch your favorite show without Francis commenting on it every five seconds.

[sluttyten]

Little Shop of Wonders

Kinktober Day 8 | Kun Masterlist | Member Masterlist

tags: sex pollen, free use, consensual free use, fuck toy, shower sex, lots of cum, facefucking, masturbation, bukkake, cunnilingus, blowjobs, slight exhibitionism, subspace

length: 5971

The bell over the door jingled as you pushed it open, stepping foot inside the shop. 

You’d never noticed this place before. An old shop with big glass window displays filled with plants and crystals, its heavy wooden door recessed from the street, an old brass lantern hung above the door offering only a small puddle of flickering light over the doormat. 

“Welcome,” the doormat had scrawled across it, “to the Little Shop of Wonders.”

You weren’t sure what to expect, but it was a cool, damp October night, and the shop looked like a dry place to wait for your boyfriend. 

Kun had an appreciation for magic. Usually, he favored card tricks, sleight of hand, but he’d shown you before that he was intrigued by more magical magic. He would like this place, too, so you texted him the address since he was already on the way to pick you up from work. 

From deep in the recesses of the store, you hear a woman’s voice call out, “Welcome! Have a look around, and I’ll be there to help you shortly!” 

The store is very old, if you had to guess. The floors are hardwood, bleached by ages of sunlight, dry and dusty with each step you take. The boards creak, and even when you pass over a thick rug, the floor groans beneath you, belching up dust. Dried flowers and herbs hang from the rafters. Strings of lights drape the edges of the room, occasionally cross-crossing the space in between. You spot more of those brass lanterns hanging at the ends of heavy wooden bookcases, the shelves of which are weighed down with heavy tomes and knick knacks that range from crystals and cute animal carvings to disturbingly realistic wooden figurines of people and a skull with a candle melted atop it. 

This place gives you the creeps while simultaneously pulling you in deeper. It feels like magic. It tingles over your skin, smelling sweet. 

You don’t know how long you’ve been walking around before you hear the door jingle in the distance. 

You bump into a viney potted plant on the floor, and a cat bolts out of the shadows, streaking through a gap in the shelves. You follow the cat, discovering that it’s leading you back into the center of the store from where you’d drifted to the back edges. You can see the front door, the misty blue twilight sky outside the front windows. 

Kun stands in the doorway, framed by that eerie light, though the light of the lantern glows on his face, radiant. 

“There you are,” he says with a grin, stepping inside the store fully. “What kind of place have you found?”

“Welcome to the Little Shop of Wonders,” says the same woman’s voice as before, although now it sounds as though she’s floating above you. 

You twist around, looking up at the ceiling, and you find her. She’s a wiry older woman, her curling gray hair tumbling around her shoulders, a long skirt and apron swishing around her legs as she very carefully balances and navigates her way across the beams. 

When you look back at Kun, he’s watching her with a bemused expression, which shifts to that of one impressed when the woman leaps down from the beam and lands lightly on her feet. 

She brushes her hands off on her apron, and looks at the pair of you with a wide, warm, inviting smile on her face. 

“It’s so nice to meet you.” Her hands go to her hips, and she looks the pair of you over, her gaze studying the way you gravitate towards each other. “What can I help you with?”

“Oh.” You and Kun glance at each other, and then you say, “We’re just looking around.”

The woman nods her head. “Of course! If you look long enough, whatever you’re meant to have in here will jump out at you.”

You take Kun’s hand, and for a little while you browse the shelves, occasionally coming across a cat or the witchy woman herself, humming as she passes through different areas of the shop. 

Finally, after you feel that you’ve spent nearly an hour together looking at the small oddities and interests in the store, you realize that it’s time you leave so you can get home. But Kun’s interested in the live plants the woman has sitting beside a window towards the back of the shop. He brushes his fingers along a blush pink leaf, lifts his fingers along the stem, and cups one of the curved bloodred petals.

“I’d be careful with that one, if I were you.” The woman appears suddenly at your elbow, nudging her way between you and Kun. She cups the plant’s pot in her hands, lifting it gently. “This one’s a powerful aphrodisiac. Quite a strong stimulant.” 

Kun peeks at you over her head. You stifle a giggle against your hand. 

“Doubt me if you like,” she warns, “But this plant’s pollen is known to cause intense arousal when ingested. Whether that means if the residue is on your skin, or if it’s contained within a bottle of honey.” 

Suddenly she’s lifting a hand, a small vial of glinting golden honey sits in her palm. 

“Are you saying that’s a bottle of sex honey?” You ask, trying to keep from laughing.

The woman’s mouth tightens. “Yes, dear. Essentially. A taste of this honey, and you and your boy would be bound to fall into bed together. THat’s why I have it labeled for sale over in the love and sex section of the shop. Now, if you ingest the pollen directly, say if he were to lick his fingers now after having touched the plant, the effects would be much stronger. Arousal lasting days, possibly.”

Again, Kun catches your eye over the woman’s head, and you watch your boyfriend daringly lift his hand to his lips, and he pops his index and middle finger both into his mouth.

“Oh, darling….” The witchy woman shakes her head while looking at Kun. She quickly sits the plant back down among the others, and she waves her hand towards the front door of the shop. “You should leave now. Good luck. And you, my dear,” she says with a look in your direction, “You may want to purchase a bottle of the honey, just so you can keep up with him.”

“I think we’ll be fine, but thank you.” You wrap your arm around Kun’s and walk towards the door with him, calling over your shoulder to her, “Maybe if this goes as well as you’re promising, we’ll be back for some of that sex honey.”

You swear that instead of swinging gently shut as it had when you opened it, the door slams behind you as you and Kun step out onto the sidewalk outside the Little Shop of Wonders.

“Come on.” Kun slides his hand down into yours, leading you away to where his car is parked. “Let’s get home.”

On the ride home, you both laugh about the woman’s warnings. It just sounds so silly, the things she was saying. Kun keeps sucking on his fingers, saying that he’s still waiting for it to kick in like she promised, that from the sound of it, he’ll need to fuck you as soon as you get home, but it must be slow acting. “I’m not even a little bit hard, yet. Maybe her plant isn’t working right. Not that I need the help, but she’s made it sound like one taste of the pollen and I’m going to be rock hard for days.”

You laugh, tipping your head against the seat to watch as Kun flicks his tongue between the V of his index and middle finger. “Kun, I promise, if you’re rock hard for days, if this pollen truly works as well as she’s said, you can fuck me however, wherever, as often as you want.”

“I have free use of you?” Kun’s teasing, looking over at you as he rolls the car to a stop at a light. “You’d be my little fuck toy?”

“Anything for you, Kun.” You’re playing, but some part of you is actually serious. You love Kun. Since you started dating him, you’ve wanted him a ridiculous amount. It’s only because you can’t constantly be on his dick that you haven’t let on to him how horny you frequently are. You’ve tried to tone it down, but honestly, giving him free use to fuck you however and wherever and whenever he likes is exactly what you’ve needed all this time.

If only the ridiculous notion of sex pollen was real and not just the imaginary creation of some batty woman in a mysterious shop.

When you get home, you hop in the shower while Kun starts to prepare dinner.

You’ve been in there for only about five minutes, when the door to the bathroom opens. You pull the shower curtain back a bit, peeking out into the steamy bathroom. Kun’s right there, already climbing into the shower, yanking the curtain back shut behind him as he backs you towards the wall. 

“What’s this?” You giggle, reaching for his arm. “Did the pollen kick in or something?”

“Yeah,” Kun murmurs, and then his lips are on yours, his hands on your hips. 

You can’t believe he’s really going along with this, playing into it just to have shower sex. You let him spin you around so your chest and cheek are against the wall. Kun pulls one of your arms behind your back, the other you lift above your head to brace yourself a bit. 

“Any time, anywhere, that’s what you said right?” Kun confirms as he grinds forward against your ass. 

“Mhmm,” you moan, rolling your hips back to meet his movements. “Yes, Kun.”

His mouth moves fiery hot over your bare shoulder, his skin hot against yours everywhere he touches. “Perfect.”

And then he’s thrusting forward, driving his cock between your legs, rutting forward again and again until his cock slides inside you.

With no prep, it burns a little, but you like it. You like when Kun gets a little rough from time to time. Like right now, when he just starts plunging into you with these big thrusts, clearly just chasing his own orgasm. His hand holds yours against your lower back.The shower spraying down on you both has your skin all slippery, your bound hands sliding with each of Kun’s powerful thrusts. 

Your moans echo around the bathroom, and Kun’s breaths come hard and fast against your ear. 

Kun presses up against your back, pinning you between him and the wall, his weight bearing down on you as he fucks into you. Each press of his cock inside you, each catch of his breath against your ear, the heat in your belly stirs a little more. But it doesn’t stir as quickly as Kun, he cums with his mouth against your throat, his body flush against yours. 

One of his hands slides around down your belly, down between your legs, fingers against your clit as he thrusts several more times. Kun fucks his cum deeper inside you, gliding against your G spot while stimulating your clit, and you fall apart in his arms, feeling like you’re dissolving into sweet bliss as he keeps rocking his hips forward and tracing his fingers over your sensitive clit.

He keeps going until you’re whining, until he’s spilling inside you again.

Your legs shake as you actually put them into use again. Kun steps back, leaving you empty and on your own two feet. He rinses off quickly, running a hand down his body, over his cock. You twist around to watch him, biting your lip as you watch his hand run along his cock.

“Keep looking at me like that, babe, and I’m going to have to feed you something other than the dinner I started.” He leans in quickly, dropping a kiss to your lips, and then he steps out of the shower, calling back to you, “Shower quickly, dinner should be ready in a few minutes.”

You finish your shower, dry off, dress in a camisole and cotton shorts, then you head to the kitchen.

Kun’s standing at the counter, chopping a few toppings for the stew he’s made. You walk up behind him, wrap your arms around him and lay your head against his bare shoulder. He’s only wearing sweatpants that hang low on his hips. You run your hand over his bare belly, up his chest, and back down to the edge of his sweatpants. 

Kun sits the knife aside. 

You turn your head, brushing your lips over his warm skin. Kun lets out a shaky breath. You let your pinky finger tuck beneath the edge of his sweatpants.

“It smells good,” you tell him. “I’m ready to eat.”

Kun’s hand trembles as he picks up the knife again, and you rest your cheek against his shoulder, watching as he tries to chop up the last few ingredients. And then you notice.

He’s really so warm, his skin flaming hot beneath your cheek.

“Kun?” You take a step to the side, peering at his face, lifting a hand to his cheek. “Are you sick? You feel feverish.”

His eyes are dark when he looks at you. His pupils are blown wide, and he nearly moans at the cool press of your fingers against his warm cheek. “I’m not sick. I feel fine, except I don’t think that lady was lying about the pollen. I’m still so hard, babe, it hasn’t gone down at all.” 

You look down to his sweatpants, at his cock that’s still ragingly hard, tenting the front of his pants.

Your mouth fills with saliva, and you lift your gaze back up to meet your boyfriend’s. You swallow to keep yourself from drooling when you say, “I meant what I said in the car, Kun. However, wherever, as often as you like. I can take it. Use me as your fucktoy.”

“Fuck.” Kun sits the knife aside again, and he reaches for you, twisting his fingers in your hair, and he forces you to your knees. 

Your mouth drops open as Kun uses his free hand to push his sweatpants down. His hard, heavy cock springs free, already wet at the tip, leaking a crystalline thread of precum. You don’t need Kun’s hand in your hair to guide you; you dive forward, catching the falling bead on your tongue and following it up to the source, sucking Kun’s cockhead in. 

That’s when he takes over, hand pressing against the back of your head, forcing you deeper on his cock. His hips jerk forward at the same time, triggering your gag reflex as he hits the back of your throat. Not that that stops him, if anything it encourages him to go harder, faster, and you take it all, hungry for his cock shoved down your throat even as your eyes begin to water, as your jaw and throat ache from the repeated pressure. You slurp around him as he starts to drag your mouth off of his cock. His fingers tight in your hair, Kun allows you a brief breath before he’s fucking back into your mouth.

You’re drooling all over his cock as Kun holds the back of your head, fucking his cock into the deep warmth of your throat. And when he cums, he just keeps going, filling your mouth and shooting down the back of your throat, it leaks from the corners of your lips, and you think you’re going crazy because you want more.

Kun drags you off his cock by your hair.

Spit and cum and tears streak your face, dripping from your chin as you look up at Kun. 

He releases his hold on your hair to run his thumb under your bottom lip. “You’re so beautiful, babe. Get up, here you go.” Kun offers you his hand, and you slide your palm against his as he pulls you up to your feet. “Good girl, now sit down. It’s time for dinner.”

You obediently sit at the table, still a little fucked-dumb, still dripping his cum even when Kun serves you a bowl of the stew he made. It smells heavenly, rich with spices, and you dig in, the flavors of it only made better with the added flavor of Kun’s cum lingering on your tongue.

Kun pretty much inhales his helping of the stew, and he doesn’t even wait for you to finish eating before he’s walking over to you. You’re quite hungry, so you don’t want him to pull you away from the meal, even though you can see his cock still bulging his sweatpants, staining them with a spot of precum. 

“Keep eating, babe,” Kun tells you, reaching out to stroke your hair. “You need to eat to keep up your strength. If what the lady said is true, I’m probably gonna be like this for a few days.” 

You think back to him sucking the pollen residue off his fingers, licking his hands clean. Who knows how much he ingested?

You eat a spoonful of stew, eyeing his erection out of the corner of your eye. Is he just going to stand there and not take care of it? You look up at Kun, and it’s a horny little demon inside you that speaks with your voice, saying, “You don’t have to wait for me to finish eating, Kun. Until this wears off, I’m yours to do what you want with me.”

His cock twitches in his pants. Kun groans.

“Do you mean that, though? Really?” 

You nod. “Anything you want. Within reason. No bringing anyone else into this–”

“I don’t want to share you!” Kun interjects.

You continue, “Nothing that we haven’t talked about before.”

Kun smirks at that. “Well, that pretty much leaves everything on the table, then doesn’t it?” He strokes your hair again. “All I want right now is to cover you in my cum, babe, head to toe. I want to fuck you in every room in this house, fuck you until we both pass out. I want to treat you like my doll.”

You turn back to your bowl of stew. You shrug, “Then do it, Kun.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see him draw his cock out of his pants. You watch him start stroking his cock, but you focus on eating your stew, blowing on it to cool it off, taking your time to lick the spoon clean after each bite. You eat the stew like your pussy isn’t throbbing with arousal watching Kun jerk off inches away from your face. 

He cums again when you’ve got your spoon halfway to your mouth. Kun’s cum streaks over your cheek, landing in your hair, across your lips, some of it hits your spoon and your hand. You eat that spoonful too, enjoying the extra salty addition of his cum to it. Kun keeps stroking his length, a few last spurts striping your cheek as you reach for the bowl. You lift it to your lips, quickly draining what little is left because as soon as it’s gone, as soon as you’ve sat the bowl down, Kun is pulling you to your feet.

When he moves you so your ass is on the edge of the table, you expect Kun to push your shorts to the side and slide his cock right inside you.

You don’t expect Kun to sink to his knees, for him to tear your shorts down around your ankles, and bury his face between your thighs. He spreads your legs with a hand on each thigh, massaging them as he licks at your pussy, as he fucks his tongue into you, as he sucks at your clit and licks up your wetness as you’re drenching his tongue, writhing against his face, needing more and more.

Kun moans loudly, eating you out in the most noisy manner he ever has. 

You cum on his tongue, hands knotted in his hair as you ride it out, grinding against Kun’s face.

“If this is what we have in store,” you gasp as Kun licks a strip up your pussy one more time, “I think I could get used to this. You’ve never given better head, honestly. I need you to be this horny all the time if it means I get eaten out like that.”

Kun scatters kisses over your thighs. “We’re just getting started, babe.” 

- - -

For the rest of the night, Kun has you sit on his lap, cockwarming him while you watch a movie together. 

Kun’s hands are constantly moving – stroking along your thighs, dipping to touch your clit while forcing you to sit still on him; he pulls the neckline of your camisole down to expose your tits, and he teases your nipples until you’re whimpering and fighting the urge to fuck yourself on his cock. But as soon as you get desperate enough to beg for it, Kun stops.

He’ll have you sit up, kneeling above his lap with just the head of his cock still buried in your pussy as he jerks off, cumming inside you so he can watch it drip back out of your pussy. Instead of letting you cum, when you’re teetering on the edge, he’ll have you kneel on the floor, cockwarm him with your mouth instead so he can cum across your tongue and cheeks again, adding even more to the mess he’d made at dinner. He edges you again, and then he fucks your tits, cumming across them then taking his time afterwards to clean it up with his tongue, feeding it back to you and watching you swallow everything before he returns his tongue to your nipples, flicking his tongue over the hardened buds until you’re rocking your hips up off the sofa restlessly.

Kun cums more times than you can keep track of, and you take all of the cum he gives you, hungrily sucking his cock, feeling him fill your pussy, spreading his cum across your tits with your fingers, moaning as he shoots his load across your back while he’s got his fingers inside you.

Kun edges you through it all until finally your body can’t take anymore, and you cum around him while Kun’s got you riding him. He’s hugging you to his chest, his mouth locked with yours, and he is once again spilling into you when your orgasm finally explodes through you.

You don’t remember him carrying you to the bathroom, don’t remember Kun rinsing off with you in the shower, or when he carries you to bed. You remember only a brief glimpse of his cock finally going soft when he settles into bed beside you.

And you think that’s it. 

The sex pollen ran its course.

You’re a little bit disappointed at that thought, truly. When you wake in the morning to pale sunlight, you check on your sleeping boyfriend, and Kun is all spread out beside you. He’s kicked away the sheets in his sleep, and although he still feels warm to the touch, his cock is soft against his thigh. 

You know maybe you should feel like you had enough yesterday. The never-ending edging paired with the amount of fucking you and excessive cumming Kun had done should have satisfied you. But you were having fun. You liked Kun treating you like a cumdump.

Maybe you should go back to the Little Shop of Wonders, ask the witch for that vial of honey or maybe purchase the whole sex pollen plant.

You crawl quietly out of bed, pull on a shirt of Kun’s, and you tiptoe to the kitchen to deal with the mess from last night. Neither of you had bothered with the dishes from the stew, which are still spread out on the table. You get to work cleaning, tidying things and doing the dishes. 

It’s probably for the best that Kun’s already gotten over the effects of the sex pollen, you think as you finish the dishes from last night and start making breakfast instead. Kun is supposed to work today. He’s got a deadline coming up, so he needs to get in the studio today, and he’d been complaining to you yesterday morning about a meeting he has this morning. He’s got things to do, people to see, he can’t call in sick today because he’s too busy dealing with a sex pollen crisis, though at least the people he’s working with and having meetings with are some of his closest friends; they just might understand the situation.

“Good morning,” Kun says suddenly behind you, startling you a bit, but before you can turn to him, his arms are around you, and his hard cock is against your ass. “I guess this isn’t over yet, babe.” He kisses your cheek. “I thought when I fell asleep that it must be. I’d gone soft, but I just woke up hard as I ever was yesterday.”

He thrusts against your ass. 

“So I’m gonna fuck you, babe. But you keep doing what you’re doing, hm?” Kun pushes up the back of the shirt you’re wearing, revealing your ass to him. “God, you’re truly unbelievable, you know that? So fucking pretty, my babe.” And then he’s pressing in, cock pushing inside your pussy. 

You brace your arms against the countertop, and you try to keep finishing the breakfast prep you’d been doing before Kun came in. The way that he’s fucking you makes that a little more difficult, but you try, and Kun seems to like that. 

“Yes, babe, look at you. You’re taking it so well, letting me use you like this.” His cock twitches inside you. 

It’s not easy, that’s for sure.

Your focus starts to slip when Kun pulls your hips back, angling you just right so each of his thrusts is nailing against your G spot. He’s moaning behind you, praising how sweet and tight and warm you feel around his cock. Your pussy just keeps growing wetter and wetter as he reaches up beneath your shirt to grope at your tits, as you try to keep on task even as Kun’s fucking you into delirium.

Kun cums, flooding your pussy, pressing in deep a few more times. 

He steps back, and although you try to keep tight, to keep his cum in, you can feel some of it dripping out, sliding down your thigh, dropping to the floor.

Kun pats your ass, then pulls the shirt back down. 

“Good girl.” He kisses your cheek again. 

He sits down at the table, and a few moments later, the breakfast you were making is ready, so he pulls you into his lap to dine together. 

“Kun,” you say after a while, “Don’t you have to go to the studio today? Don’t you have a meeting too?”

His erection is digging into your thigh, unable to be ignored. 

“I do, and I was actually thinking about that.” He brushes his lips over your neck. “What if you come with me? This reaction isn’t going away, so I’m going to need to cum regardless of whether you’re there or not. So I could jerk off every five minutes, or you could come along and we’ll both get something out of it. What do you say?”

Twenty minutes later, you’re in the car with Kun. He’s flying down the streets. 

Even though his eyes are focused on the road, his driving is worse than usual, though that almost certainly has to do with the fact that as soon as he’d pulled onto the road, he’d tangled his fingers in your hair and urged your mouth down into his lap. 

You eagerly sucked at Kun’s cock, stroking him with both hands, leaving kisses along his length, drooling over the tip, choking yourself on him. Kun lays his hand on the back of your head, directing you when he really feels like he needs to. As you draw closer to the studio where Kun works as a producer, he starts taking over, pushing you down around his cock, his hips rising off the seat to drive himself deeper down your throat. 

He cums right as he’s pulling into the parking garage of the studio. You clean him up as he navigates to a parking spot, and you wait patiently in the passenger seat as Kun gets out. He comes around to your side, opening the door and taking your hand like a gentleman, and he pulls you into a kiss as soon as you’re both standing outside the car.

He takes you into his studio, sitting you in his lap while he starts working, though that only works for so long. Soon he’s getting distracted by the pressing need he keeps grinding against your ass, so he has you slide to your knees beneath the mixing board. You pull up the sweater you wore, and Kun has you push your tits together around his cock, and he fucks between the softness of them, cumming across your tits and then immediately dragging your mouth around his cock. 

You’re still kneeling there beneath the mixing board with your mouth full of his cock when his friend, who is also the artist he’s recording today, walks in. YangYang either doesn’t notice you down there or chooses not to say anything. You obediently keep your mouth around Kun, suckling and shifting on your knees. 

YangYang chats with Kun for just a couple minutes, and then he heads into the recording booth. 

Kun drags you off his cock, and you look up at him. “Babe, I really need to focus on this recording session, okay? So I’m gonna need you to take everything I give you, no whining or touching yourself, okay?”

You nod, sticking your tongue out, offering your mouth up to Kun again.

“Good girl.” Kun pushes you back down around his cock. You hear him press a button above your head, and then he says, “Alright, YangYang, go ahead.”

You bob your head on Kun’s cock, working your hardest to get him to cum for you, knowing that if he doesn’t cum, Kun’s going to be distracted. All you have to do is keep him satisfied, and then he’ll be focused. 

He cums within minutes, but you keep going, and Kun tightens his fingers in your hair. You bring your hands up to his cock too, stroking him into your mouth, letting some of his cum and your spit slide down to lube the way. You’re making a mess of him; his cum leaking out of your mouth is pooling on the front of his pants, but you can’t help it. You’re swallowing around him, swallowing the first load of cum, but before long he’s cumming again, letting out a grunt as you choke around his cock.

“Dude, you good?” YangYang asks from inside the booth. 

“Fine. Try that verse again.”

Kun’s hand weighs down against the back of your head, pushing you all the way down around his cock, and you close your eyes, letting him do it. You sink into some kind of state where you’re not asleep, but you’re not fully conscious either. All you know is the weight of Kun’s cock on your tongue, the taste of his cum, the smell of him as your nose is buried at the base of his cock. You can hear his voice, but he could be talking to you or a whole crowd of people, and you wouldn’t know the difference.

Eventually, Kun lets you up again, tugging lightly on your hair.

You gag as you’re pulled off of him, coughing and gasping for breath. Kun’s cum drips from your lips and chin.

“Are you okay?” Kun asks when he takes one look at the dazed expression on your face. “Babe, are you good to continue.”

You nod, feeling your lips form a loose smile. 

Kun brings his hand up, wiping at your cheeks and chin and lips. His fingers are gentle beneath your chin as he brings you forward into a kiss. His lips leave yours, brushing over your forehead. 

“We’re done with this for now.” He helps you the rest of the way to your feet. “You’re too far gone, you can’t even speak to me right now. If you could see the look on your face right now, my love, you would understand. Don’t pout.” You didn’t realize you were until Kun said that, and you try to tame your expression. He smiles, leading you over to the sofa along the back wall. “Take a nap. You’re amazing, and I love you, and once this all wears off, I owe you something huge.”

You hum, sinking down onto the sofa, laying your head down, and immediately you can feel a tired pull. 

Kun strokes his hand over your head, kisses your forehead one more time, and you’re asleep before he walks away. 

- - -

You sleep it off there on the sofa, waking hours later to go home with Kun. 

He fucks you senseless a few more times that night at home, and when you wake the next morning you stay in bed with him, waiting for him to wake, waiting for him to need to fuck you again, to let you suck his cock again even though you’re pretty sure at this point, your throat is permanently molded to the shape of Kun’s cock.

But when he wakes, Kun just pulls you against his chest. His cock doesn’t grow hard. He just sighs and holds you close, and you’re actually perfectly content with that change of pace too.

But a few days later, as you’re heading home from work, you get the thought into your head to return to the Little Shop of Wonders, to see if that witchy woman will sell you a vial of that sex honey. 

The pollen had been a lot. Your body is still aching days later, and Kun swears his balls are sore from how much he came in such a short span of time. But you’ve both agreed that maybe the honey would be nice to have – a less intense version of that that lasts only a few hours wouldn’t be bad to experience from time to time.

You walk down the side street you’d passed down just a few days ago, and you search the shopfronts for the window displays filled with crystals and viney plants, for the recessed doorway with the brass lantern and the ancient-looking wooden door. 

But you pass up and down that street three times, checking each shop before you finally give up. It’s not here. It’s as if the Little Shop of Wonders was never here at all, but you know you couldn’t have imagined it.

Weeks pass, you forget about it, too swept up in the holiday season closing in around you. Christmas is just days away, winter staking her claim over the city with a snowstorm blowing in this afternoon, ruining your plans to go shopping for Kun a Christmas present and a birthday present, since that’s a week later.

You’re hurrying home from work, bundled up against the chill, thinking about what you can get Kun that he’ll truly appreciate.

And then, from the corner of your eye through the swirling snow, you see a gleam of bronze. You turn your head. 

A brass lamp.

A wooden door.

Large plate glass windows frosted over, but not entirely concealing the displays of crystals and books and a wreath of candles and symbols. 

A new wooden sign creaks above the door, blowing back and forth in the wind. 

The Little Shop of Wonders sits waiting, promising the perfect present for Kun.   

a/n: I could've gone on and on with this one honestly! I was going to write a few more scenes, but it's getting late and I really need to post this.

I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs are deserving of my eternal gratitude, likes are greatly appreciated, and your thoughts and comments are always welcome !

[biteofcherry]

To find the light, we must first touch the darkness

Please also check out @bluepinkangel​’s amazing hot moodboard for this universe 🖤

dark mafia!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: When you unexpectedly are appointed to run a health center, you foresee many struggles along the way, but not one in the form of a merciless mob boss. Steve Rogers’ core aim is to own and he won’t take no for an answer. To any of his demands.

warnings for this chapter: dark!Steve Rogers; manipulation; power imbalance; forced marriage; D/s undertones; ex-pli-cit; knife kink; choking; choking kink; praise;

word count: 7k

Touch the Darkness Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Chapter 6. Downpour

~ * ~

Victims often described the events of their traumatic experience as a blur. Or a film montage of chopped scenes, often black and white, or with one color prevailing. Sometimes their minds protected themselves so strongly they dissociated, their consciousness floating away into a safe space.

Nothing of the sort happened to you on your dreaded wedding day. 

If anything, you felt more present in the moment than in the days leading to it. 

Colors were vibrant, sounds clear, your feelings vivid. 

You felt the constriction of the built-in corset of your wedding dress, the soft swish of the embroidered, shiny tulle in the chalice of the wide skirt; as well the warm amazement at how beautiful you looked. 

Even though your spite tempted you to pick a dress that would manifest how much you didn’t want to say your vows, you couldn’t help the flaming love you experienced at the sight of yourself in a stunning wedding dress. 

A fucking princess style, out of all. 

You wanted to hate it, to cross it out purely to not give Steve the extra satisfaction, but your parents teared up when they saw you in it. Maybe they had some qualms about the speedy wedding, but they sure got on board with it when they saw your face glowing. 

You didn’t have the heart to tell them it was because you felt beautiful, not because you loved your future husband. 

Whose handsome face you couldn’t look away from as your father walked you down the aisle. 

Dressed in a sharp suit, steel gray a tone warmer than his cold heart, Steve watched you every step of your way to him. Others perhaps saw in his face awe, getting all mushy over how much he had to be in love with you, but you knew it was a glint of triumph. 

You said your vows in the wide garden surrounding Steve’s property, under an arch of lush peonies and vines. You were sure it’s only thanks to the two glasses of Prosecco and Steve’s hand holding yours a tad too tightly, that you recited your promise to him without a hitch. 

With how smooth and soft Steve’s voice was, how he held your gaze captive, you’d think he was expressing true, deep feelings when he said his vows. 

True was his possessiveness. 

Steve displayed it first in the way he kissed you - draping you over his arm, like in old Hollywood movies, and branding your lips with a breathstealing, passionate kiss. Unable to resist, your arm sneaked around his neck, fingers splaying on the back of his head, while your other hand gripped onto the lapel of his suit jacket. 

Then by keeping you occupied each dance, allowing only your father to lead you through two songs. 

To your further annoyance, Steve turned out to be a really good dancer. Or maybe he was simply good at holding you and controlling your body as he guided you across the wooden planks built into a dance floor specially for this occasion. 

“You look beautiful, Princess.” 

There was no breathtaking awe in Steve’s voice, like you used to imagine your true love would say those words one day. But it was no coy game, either. Steve meant them, it was an honest compliment. 

It was also his pride in owning you. 

“I’m already your wife, all is signed. No need for bullshit,” you stared over Steve’s shoulder, stubbornly refusing to meet his gaze and see what desires may shine in the ice cold blue irises. 

He twirled you suddenly, then pulled you back to him. Kept you pressed against him tighter as he brushed his lips along your cheek. 

“I’d think by now you know I don’t really bullshit anyone,” he whispered in your ear. “I do find you stunning. And I’ll repeat those words later, when I have you naked in our bedroom.”

Heat filled you faster than after that shot you sneaked right before soup was served, to calm your nerves and numb yourself further as the reality of being now Mrs Rogers started settling in. No, that fast dose of booze didn’t scorch your insides the way Steve’s promise of the wedding night did. 

“Not gonna happen,” you tried sounding fierce, but your voice came much breathier than you’d like. 

“We’ll see, won’t we?” Steve chuckled, tip of his tongue flicking the shell of your ear, eliciting goosebumps to appear all over your skin. 

His hand on your back was placed low, but he dipped his fingers even further, toying with the ribbon of your corset right above the curve of your ass. 

“We have a deal, after all.” He reminded you. 

You wanted to argue with him, that technically you didn’t agree to it, but you knew it’s futile. You suffered some disturbing sexual deviancy and your pussy tingled at the mere thought of Steve touching it. So you planned on simply being sneaky and wiping yourself dry before entering the bedroom. And then staying resolved and unbothered, so that Steve’s dark touch didn’t force a single drop of slick out. 

You considered stuffing your nose with something too, because the scent of Steve alone now that he was pressed to you so close, was enough to warm up your body. 

To ignore your own responses - to his smell, to his touch, to the images of wicked acts he could do to you - you focused your gaze above Steve’s shoulder. Glancing at random guests, at the stunning flower arrangements, trying not to hurt from the fact your parents looked so joyous. 

You frowned, noticing Natalie smirking around the rim of a champagne flute as she talked to a man whom you recognized as Steve’s most trusted right hand, Bucky. While flirting at a wedding wasn’t something unusual, alarm bells rang in your head at the prospect of Natalie endangering herself. She was already at risk, being associated with you, but to dance with a wolf was like playing with fire that was surely going to consume her whole. 

You didn’t know much about Bucky, practically nothing, but if he was this close to Steve then there was no trace of innocence or clear conscience in him. 

No one could stay pure, if they followed in Rogers’ murky wake. A realization which made you wonder, if your own core may rot and dissolve at his feet. 

Your heart fluttered, as Steve twirled your body again. Chalice of your dress opened, shimmering in the sunlight as if encrusted in crushed diamonds. In reality it was a faint sparkle compared to the actual bling of the diamond ring on your finger. 

You glared at it with disdain when Steve first put it on your finger, seeing nothing but a leash. A brand of ownership and reminder of torment. But the more glances you stole, the more irresistible it was to admire. 

It was truly beautiful and you hated it for it. 

Steve pulled you back to his body, pressing you even closer than before. Tip of his nose grazed along yours, the icy blue of his irises warming into the shade of pure sky. His breath tickled your mouth, mingling with yours as your lips parted on a gasp. 

Then his lips were on you. Soft and coaxing, tempting you to respond in submission. 

You told yourself it’s the surprise of it that made you give in, the spectacle you had to continue for the guests, but you couldn’t completely deny the jolt of excitement that spurred heat into every crevice of your body, then melted it into a pliant surrender. 

You were vaguely aware of the camera flashes as pictures of you were taken. The sound of cheering and clapping barely registering through the haze of your heartbeat pounding in your head. 

There was no triumphant smirk on Steve’s lips when he reluctantly pulled away, which would undoubtedly shake you out of daze. Instead, there was a dark hunger that clenched your heart in fear and your cunt in anticipation. 

You found yourself surprisingly reluctant to step out of his embrace as the song ended and Steve took the opportunity to build the lie further by asking your mother to dance.

Trying to avoid dancing with Steve wasn’t as clever a solution as you first thought, because the bastard found other ways to instigate small gestures of intimacy that confused your brain and tickled your clit like a living tongue. 

Like him smoothly commenting how delicious that seasoned rib was and how you should try it, then promptly feeding you a piece of it.

With his fingers. 

Purposely slipping his fingertip between your lips along with the meat.

It was a split of a second, but enough to have a wave of heat wash over you and your thighs clench.

You thanked heaven that you picked a princess dress, because the layers of the skirt at least hid the movement that would otherwise betray you.

A gulp of wine couldn’t wash away the sensation, nor did it wipe the lewd image of Steve forcing his fingers into your mouth. Would they be salty? Would they feel heavy as he pressed them against your tongue? Would his rings feel cool? 

Then you didn’t even have alcohol to numb yourself. Steve made sure your glass was filled with water only as the celebrations proceeded. When you glared at him, trying to yank your hand out of his grip, he said he won’t have you sloshed on your wedding night.

“Don’t want you to worry it was only the booze that got you wet,” he sucked on your earlobe. 

But made it look so sweet, the way he pressed his cheek to yours and gently held your hand, that to the others it had to look as if he was whispering love admissions into your ear. 

The bastard played supportive and soothing as he caressed your back when you were saying goodbye to the guests leaving the reception late in the evening. Your mom took your teary eyes as an overwhelming, but positive emotion that made her all mushy as well. 

You couldn’t cling to her, or your dad, crying in despair that they were leaving you with a monster. Not when that monster was constantly by your side, being most respectful and charming towards them. Displaying a twisted care for you that eased your parents’ worries while irritating you. 

There were fireworks bursting in the sky in abundant splashes of color as Steve led you to the master bedroom. 

Everyone was gone, only the wedding planner’s team was rushing around like busy bees, cleaning up and packing leftovers. And they all pretended they didn’t see you. You thought some of Steve’s men were also circling around, but you didn’t know yet if it was to keep an eye on the workers, or if it was their routine to guard Steve’s mansion. 

Once inside the bedroom, you blurted out your need to use the bathroom and promptly locked yourself inside. Only for a few moments you entertained the thought of staying in and sleeping on the tiled floor, but you knew Steve wouldn’t allow that. He’d sooner take the damn door down than give you reprieve.

He wanted to wreck your body too much. 

And you feared how you may react to it. 

As you pulled up layers and layers of tulle, to use the toilet and clean yourself from the already obvious reaction to Steve’s touch; you accepted that your anxiety wasn’t for debauchery, but for the inappropriate eagerness of your body.

For fuck’s sake, you were dripping and coming on command when he defiled you with a gun!

How much stronger was your reaction going to be when he caressed you with his hands and mouth? 

After wiping yourself dry, you cleaned your hands and with your head held high stepped out into the bedroom. You still planned on fighting tooth and nail to not arouse from whatever he had planned. 

Having taken off his suit jacket and rolling up his sleeves, Steve waited for you in the middle of the room. His eyes glinted with satisfaction when you stepped out. He crooked a finger at you, beckoning you to him. 

“I knew you’d come out like a good girl, Princess,” he crooned, not at all bothered by your stomping and glaring daggers his way. 

“Didn’t feel like watching a door being splintered into pieces,” you snapped, clenching your hands on the skirt of your dress as you stood right in front of Steve.

“Of course. That’s the only splintering you were concerned about,” he teased, running a single digit down the column of your neck. “But I know, Princess. I know there’s this curiosity that draws you to me. You may hate it, but your body is eager to learn what I’ll do to you.”

“It’s not. I’m not!” You protested, yet you didn’t flinch when his finger drew a scorching line from one collar bone to the other, then dipped lower to trace your cleavage. 

“I want to believe your words, Princess,” Steve said in pretend seriousness, “but let’s check in with your body, too.”

As embarrassing the thought of him flipping your skirts up was, you inwardly prayed he’d do it quickly. If he touched your pussy now, he’d find you dry. But if he prolonged the whole thing, you had no certainty it would stay this way. 

“I’m aware how fond of my gun you are,” his words startled you, stopping your heart for a split of a second then sending it into a fluttery beat. The memory of the warm muzzle dragging along your thigh and slipping under your panties spurred heat to pool low in your core. 

Shit! No! 

No, no, no. You couldn’t get wet! 

“But I didn’t think it’s an accessory appropriate for the wedding,” Steve’s mouth curved into a lopsided smile that only added to his criminally hot look. 

“So I had something special to be custom made for this occasion-” he touched your cheek in a sweet caress- “and for any future occasions… with my wife.”

Your breath hitched in your lungs when he called you his wife. He made it sound reverent, but at the same time his tone dripped with that dark triumph that reminded you there was no way out from his clutches. 

You watched Steve dip his hand into his pocket and then a glint of steel flashed before your eyes. 

A switchblade so sharp and polished so smooth that it seemed to be honed out of pure light. The handle was a shimmery white, with undertones of rainbow. Mother of pearl, you realized. 

Steve had his fingers wrapped around it, but purposely flipped it out, pinching the hilt between two of his fingers so you could see the silver initials engraved on it. Your initials, but with your last name being Rogers. 

Eyes widening, you went still as Steve brought the blade to your skin. Just the tip of it, you barely felt its touch, but your mind was already running with images of cuts and drawn blood. It should scare you, cause tears to fall out. Instead, you felt your pulse thundering in places that shouldn’t react to fear with excitement. 

Steve drew a soft line over the curve of your breasts and dipped the steel into the valley between them. 

He wrapped the fingers of his other hand around the front of your neck. His eyes heated up as your pupils widened in reaction, once again proving how weak you were for this single gesture. Keeping his hold firm enough you felt the silver of his rings pressing into your skin, Steve traced the blade along the trim of your wedding dress and then down your ribcage.     

“Are you afraid I’m going to hurt you?” Steve’s voice was deceivingly soft, as if he really cared if you were scared. 

You doubted he’d stop, even if you claimed that you are. You’d sooner expect him to mock you and then proceed to torment your body, proving to you how much you craved his depravity. 

But it wasn’t the physical torture you wanted to avoid. For how bad Steve was, how he fucked up your life, somehow you knew he wouldn’t harm you physically. Well, perhaps if you betrayed him. He’d kill you then. But as long as you followed his plans, you were certain he wouldn’t raise his hand on you.

Steve’s thumb brushed along your jaw in a seemingly soothing caress. You turned your face to the side, but he forced you to look back at him when you admitted in a defeated whisper: 

“I’m afraid you will make me like it.”

Fingers still curled around the front of your neck, Steve inched closer. Blue of his irises seemed to glitter an impossible hue up this close, mesmerizing you. 

You were a prey fully ensnared. 

“I will, Princess.” Steve’s lips teased yours. “I will give you pleasure that hurts so good.”

A tiny whimper escaped your mouth. You wished it was a sound of trepidation, but it held an unmistakable undertone of need. It was too late now, you felt a wet spot forming on your white undergarments. 

Steve kissed you softly, reverently; like a husband in love might kiss his beloved wife on their wedding night. Combined with the pressure of a sharp blade at your side, it made your head spin. 

“Stay still, please,” Steve squeezed your throat lightly, before releasing you and taking a step back. 

He walked around you, slowly making a full circle as he admired you. Teasing you by making you wait for what he does next. When he stopped behind you and you felt the puff of his breath on your nape, your fingers trembled. 

Then the cool blade pressed where Steve’s warm breath tickled you a second ago. He drew a sharper line down the middle of your back. You didn’t feel the sting of a cut, but he put enough pressure for you to feel a tingling scratch that dispersed into pleasant burning. 

You gulped when you felt him hook the knife under the lacing of your dress.

“I can just take it off.” You grumbled, frowning. It was a stunning dress and even though you wouldn’t be wearing it ever again, you weren’t happy with the idea of it being cut to pieces.

“You could,” Steve chuckled, “but then I wouldn’t get to hear you-”

You gasped as he swiftly cut through the first string.

“-make that lovely sound.” 

Steve relished in each cut, though you weren’t sure if he was more entranced with your little noises (which you tried to suppress, but failed at times), the act of cutting itself, or with your naked skin being revealed as the bodice of your dress parted. 

When the corset opened fully, dropping and exposing your upper body, Steve smoothed his hand along your back. Which elicited another gasp from you. 

You expected the blade to return, to draw dangerous patterns on your fragile skin. Steve’s warm, gentle caress sent a different kind of jolt down your spine, causing your tense muscles to relax in foolish trust. He pressed himself to your back, moving his hand around your front and boldly cupping your breast. A wave of heat seemed to scorch your face from the inside, but it also pooled between your thighs. 

He peppered kisses along your neck as he played with your breast; sucked on your skin as he switched his attention to the other tit. 

There was no logical thought in your head when he pinched your nipple hard and you arched; one of your arms flying up to grip the back of Steve’s head. It was an instinctive reaction of your body’s deepest need. 

Suddenly, Steve’s touch left you. Only to pull impatiently at your dress, forcing the abundant skirt to fall down. Big hands - one still holding a knife - clenched around your hips. He picked you up so easily, as if you weighed close to nothing. 

Then he was dropping you onto the grand bed. Before you even managed to push yourself up, he flipped you over onto your back. A split of a panicked thought almost had you inching away, reheating the idea to fight him. But one of Steve’s hands clenched on your ankle, while the other splayed on your belly - the one holding the knife. 

“Lie back, Princess.” Steve’s tone wasn’t harsh, but it chimed with certain urgency. 

You stilled. Though you preferred to think it was because of the blade he left on your belly in a warning, not because he asked you to. 

Definitely not because you couldn’t look away from him as Steve undressed in a few quick, practiced moves. 

The sight was so enticing you didn’t think of grabbing the knife and possibly changing the flow of the night to your advantage. 

Without his shirt on, you saw the wide plains of Steve’s chest and chiseled abdomen; saw the tattoos entwining his arms and upper body. Dark patterns, with a few splashes of rich color, that only added to the dark, thrilling aura of Steve Rogers. 

You swore that while Steve was a scary motherfucker in his usual wear, he’d appear an even more lethal demon if he approached his victims half-naked. 

Your gaze shifted downward when he pushed his pants down, but you forced it back up to his face. Mostly because you feared the sound you may make, if you saw his cock. Partly because you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you staring. 

When Steve knelt on the mattress and then crawled forward, you dropped your head to the pillows and focused on the ceiling. A part of you craved to watch him, to await in trepidation, but you still held onto that sane part of your brain that told you it’s wrong to want it. Wrong to give in to him so easily. 

“You’re beautiful, Princess.” He repeated the words, just like he promised.

Calloused fingers traced up your legs. The sensation this touch evoked made you want to clench your thighs, but Steve’s knee was wedged between your legs, preventing it. 

Eyes focused on your face, Steve seemed to study and memorize every spark of reaction to his touch. He picked up the knife again. The grin that he flashed you as he brought the blade to your skin was all satisfaction and condescending praise. He didn’t say it, but you almost heard the Good girl. For doing as he told you. For waiting. For being so obviously responsive. 

He knelt above you as he trailed the knife along your exposed body. His gaze shifted between the glint of the blade and your face. As his aim traveled south, Steve moved along with it. 

Corner of his mouth tugged upward in a dangerous smirk when he slipped the tip of the blade under the white lace of your panties. 

Your whole body went rigid. Your mouth opened, your breath becoming ragged. 

And yet, when he slashed the fabric apart, you felt a new gush of slick. 

Steve cut the other side of your panties as well, then pushed your thighs further apart. Exposing your shameful reaction. 

“Princess,” he licked his lips, “it appears that you’re wet.” 

He tapped the wide side of the blade against your clit, the jolt of it making you clench around nothing. Steve’s eyes darkened and a low, growling kind of sound rumbled in his chest as he used the knife to flick away the lace that was sticking to your drenched folds. 

“You’re not wet. You’re dripping.” He seemed to be in awe of the discovery. 

It was in a sense a comforting feeling, to see more than just a cocky triumph. To see Steve affected by the situation. Perhaps not as strongly as you were, but with enough force to make you think perhaps it was a novelty for him as well. 

“Say it, Princess.” Steve’s gaze flicked back to your face; his own eyes full of dark hunger. “Say how wet you are, for me.”

Your lips clenched shut, a stubborn frown drawing your eyebrows together. It was humiliating enough that you were so lewdly on display for this bastard, that your body betrayed you and was ready to take him. Admitting it aloud would only strip you of all defenses. 

When Steve slapped your inner thigh, the sting of it seemed to zing directly to your clit. 

“Ohh!” You couldn’t suppress the gasp, but then managed to spat angrily - “Fuck, fine! I’m wet for you, you bastard.”

As much as you hated it, your anger was less about him demanding your admission and more about him not touching you where you most needed it. 

“Your husband.” Steve reminded you, with sinister glee. 

With his knee, he pressed your other leg down. Then dragged the knife along the skin of your inner thigh. This time you felt the prick of pain as he cut the tissue. You hissed, head lifting up to stare at the tiny, thin wound. A single drop of blood pearled at the end of it. 

Then Steve’s mouth was on it. Warm and sucking, and drawing a surprised moan out of you. 

He sucked and licked it clean, making you forget about everything else. His mouth moved up, closer and closer to your core. When he finally licked into your folds as if he was biting into a ripe fruit, you dropped down with a cry. 

Fingers gripping the sheets tightly, you rode sensations unknown to you until then. Muscles strained in pain as you held yourself stiff, still sensing that blade pressed against your skin. Steve had his arms wrapped under and around your thighs, keeping you spread as he feasted on your pussy. One of his hands was holding the knife against your abdomen, the sharp tip right on your mound. 

“Oh God, please!” Your eyes clenched shut. “Please, please, Steve. I-”

As he lapped at your clit, lashing it with rapid flicks then sucking on it so sweetly, you felt your orgasm building painfully high. You were heartbeats away from climaxing.

“Stop, please!” You begged. “The knife- I can’t- I need-” 

Even if you were pleading for him to stop what he was doing all together, Steve wouldn’t listen. Not when he was so close to owning you completely. You needed something slightly different and you hoped Steve would recognize the urgency.

Mercifully, he paused. Though he held his lips close to your clit as he looked up at you from between your thighs - his eyes reminiscing of the stars frozen in dark waters of the northern lakes. 

“What do you need from your knife, Princess?” He asked, tilting the blade an inch lower. 

It almost touched your clit. 

“Place it away, please,” you started explaining, sensing that he wouldn’t comply without a satisfying reason. “I- I’m about to come. And I will, um, move. I can’t stay still. I just, I never could. I can’t.” 

“You’re afraid I’d cut you, if you get all squirmy and arching?” Twinkle of amusement lit up Steve’s eyes.

“Please, Steve.” You feared tearing up, if he refused you. You also feared he would make you cum and cut you, and that you weren’t ready for that combination of pain and pleasure. 

He hummed, holding your gaze as he licked your clit again. Your muscles tensed anew, he had to feel them straining in your thighs where he held you. Then, very slowly, he untangled himself from you. Steve let your thighs drop to the mattress freely. He lifted the hand holding the knife and you sagged in relief. 

Steve leaned over you, bracing his weight on one arm. His broad frame cast a shadow over you. He brought the blade up to your face, you could see a fragment of your reflection in it. 

“Kiss it.” Steve ordered. 

You stared at him, bewildered. He waited, surprisingly patiently, holding the blade inches from your mouth. He called this knife yours. Had it custom made for you. Used it on you in ways you never imagined in a sexual encounter. Teased what more he could do. What he probably would do to you in the future. And he wanted you to kiss it as if in gratitude for all the lewd things it would unleash on you. 

Swallowing nervously, you lifted your head enough to press your lips against the steel. 

“Good girl,” he praised. 

Your gaze followed Steve’s arm as he reached toward the nightstand to place the knife on it. Then his hand swiped along your arm, caressing muscles that strained from still gripping the sheets. 

He coaxed you back into the moment with a sensual kiss. The way his tongue dipped between your lips was soft and seductive. You’d never expect someone like Steve to be able to kiss like that. 

Heat quickly returned in pulsing beats to your clit as Steve kissed down your body. He settled back between your thighs, with a moan tasting your pussy once more. Relentlessly, he licked and sucked you back to that edge. Then pushed you over it as he pushed a finger into you. 

Steve kept that finger pumping steadily into your fluttering walls as he trailed wet bites up your body. He was hovering above you. Mouth, glistening with your arousal, was a lick away from you when he thrust a second digit inside. The stretch made you keen and Steve drank up every grimace you made. 

“Touch me, Princess,” he tempted you, curling his fingers just right. “Come on. Touch. I know you want to.” 

If your brain wasn’t a post-orgasmic mush, maybe you could muster some stubborn will to do the opposite. But he was right, you itched to touch him, to feel the ripple of his muscles beneath your fingertips, to see how hot he ran. 

Hesitantly at first, you placed both of your hands on his shoulders. Your gaze found one of the intricate vines that weaved along his shoulder and up his neck, a branch sprouting from it curved down and over his pectoral. You traced it with one hand, your other instinctively moving to Steve’s back. 

When you traced the contoured muscles of his abdomen, fingernails scratching lightly at the narrow path of coarse hair leading southwards, Steve increased the pace of his fingers. It stirred the fire in your core into a burst, evoking another moan. 

“Lower.” Steve gritted out, putting more of his weight and heat onto you. “Wrap that small hand of yours around my cock, Princess.” 

It was dirty - his words and the squelching sound of your pussy as he fingerfucked you. 

But it also made you drop your gaze between your bodies, searching for a glimpse of that dick. It swayed heavy, half-hard, right above your hip. Your walls clenched unexpectedly as you watched it. 

This wasn’t the first cock you saw in your life. You were far from a blushing virgin. There was something about Steve, however, that made you feel nervous and out of your depth. It appeared that sex with him was a whole new, scary discovery. 

Steve urged you with another command and your hand slipped down instantly. Hot, pulsing flesh in your palm, twitching and hardening as you curled your fingers around the quite impressive girth. 

It would stretch you so deliciously. Steve didn’t need to voice it for your imagination to ignite with the phantom sensation. 

You tightened your hold, swiping your thumb over the widened, red head. At Steve’s deep moan, your eyes flew up to his face, watching his pleasure in wonder. He didn’t hide it from you, didn’t try to pretend he wasn’t affected. Still, you felt yourself more at his mercy than he was at yours. Especially when you sensed that small kick of elation at giving him pleasure with your touch. 

You smeared the beads of precum down his shaft and started stroking. It was a mismatched rhythm, your focus faltering every time Steve drove his crooked fingers against that sensitive, spongy spot inside you. 

When Steve sat back on his haunches, you stopped your movement. A rush of heat filled you with sudden shyness as his gaze roamed over your splayed body. 

Skin dewy, breasts heaving with quickened breath, legs spread wide. Your hand was still around his cock, your ring and wedding band catching sparks of light. Steve’s own fingers were buried deep in your cunt, your slick glistened on his palm and wrist. 

Steve moved his other hand up your body, marveling at your curves and softness. He gave your breast a playful squeeze before trading his fingers further up. Fingers encircled the front of your neck in a familiar way. 

“You’re a fucking perfection, Princess.” 

Then he was withdrawing his fingers from your heat; milky slick sticking in a web between his digits. He knocked your hand away and spread your wetness all over his cock. 

He held your gaze as he dragged his dick between your puffed folds and into your hole. A pause for you to catch your breath, then he was thrusting in one fluid, firm stroke. 

A curse bubbled on your lips, stretching into a moan as he split you. Unable to reach him at the moment, your hands fisted the shits, gripping and twisting the fabric. Nipples stiffened into hard peaks, your chest arched upward at the same time as your head bowed back. 

There was no second to adjust, no mercy. Steve pounded into you roughly, setting a steady tempo. He watched your body move along the mattress, at least as much as his hold on your throat and your hip allowed. Your breasts swayed with each thrust, your thighs shook with each slap of his hips into you. 

He watched your eyes glaze over as an orgasmic haze crept over you anew. Your pretty mouth stayed open, letting out all the sweet noises. It took barely a few of his thrusts and you were cumming again. 

Everything was still spinning in your head when Steve yanked your hips more upwards. Your buttocks rested on his thighs, legs thrown over his hips as he fucked into you. Grip on your throat tightened more and more. Your eyes flew open, one of your hands grabbing onto Steve’s wrist. Unbothered, he kept choking you lightly. At the same time, his other hand sneaked across your abdomen. 

With your airflow limited, every sensation seemed to heighten impossibly. The stretch of his cock, the pressure of his hand on your lower belly. The coil tightened and tightened, and when Steve swiped his thumb over your engorged clit, you shattered with a soundless scream. 

Steve released your throat and the gulps of air you instinctively tok between raw cries seemed to prolong your orgasm. It twisted into a craze that felt agonizingly good. 

So good it caused you to cry, salty streaks dripping out of the corners of your eyes and down your temples. 

Through the thunderous buzz of blood pounding in your head, the muffled sound of Steve’s voice reached you. Your brain was unable to function enough to recognize it, but it sounded like your name. And something akin to ‘Atta girl. 

When Steve shifted, you welcomed his warm heaviness like a comforting blanket, mapping his sweaty back with your hands. He was still moving, speeding up, as he braced both of his forearms on the mattress. His breath was hot against your skin, his lips starved as he kissed and nipped. 

He rested his forehead against yours as he came with a loud moan. Warmth of his spend filled you and though you didn’t think of it now, later you would be thankful for the little contraceptive implant you had. As the fog of pleasure held you in its grip, you didn’t care for the consequences. Not when Steve was still rocking slightly into you, his cock twitching. 

You sighed, scrunching up your nose, when Steve pulled out a while later. Your pussy throbbed in protest, or maybe it was from the ache that was starting to make itself known. You leaked, too, which would make you really embarrassed if you weren’t too boneless to care. 

You managed to wipe at your temples and cheeks, where remnants of tears still wetted your skin, before Steve was touching you again. He flipped you onto your belly then licked a line up your spine with a broad stroke of his tongue. 

“Aren’t you done?” You huffed, fearing you may not be able to survive more. 

“Far from it,” Steve laughed and playfully slapped your ass. 

You were thankful that he spent quite some time just kissing and touching your back, your ass and your thighs. Whether he was giving himself enough time to get hard again, or if he was this dedicated to learning your body. 

When he sat on your thighs, his knees braced on the outside of your closed legs, and squeezed your asscheeks, you expected him to play there more. Instead, you felt him spread you enough to expose your pussy. He slid inside slowly, but it still took you by surprise.    

Steve laid on top of you, balancing his weight on his arms as he pulled back and thrust back in. The angle unraveled a completely new type of sensation.

“Oh my- fuuuck!” You couldn’t help the unladylike, high pitched squeal. 

Nails scratching at the sheets helplessly, you spluttered mewls as Steve purposely rocked his hips back and forth. 

“Awww,” he cooed, “is that the spot, Princess?” 

Then he pulled back and slammed back in. Each thrust grazed that ultrasensitive area; each time he sunk deeper and deeper, too. 

If you were moaning and crying when he fucked you the first time, these sounds were a symphony of pitiful and needy that surpassed others. At one point your mouth just hung open, saliva seeping out of the corner and staining the mattress. 

Your toes curled and you helplessly kicked your feet up and down, unable to shift in your position to ease the increasing, maddening pleasure. With your cheek pressed to the mattress, your gaze mindlessly focused on the ring on your finger where your hand rested beside your head. 

Steve’s fingers entered your vision, brushing along your hand and intertwining with your fingers. A mockery of softness in the ruthless way he was fucking you. 

Your cunt tightened around him, producing more slick the longer he railed that tormenting spot. The sound of him fucking you turned more and more squelching. 

“I want you to soak the sheets,” Steve grunted. When you made a noise of protest, he paused to force your legs wide apart with his feet. “Come on, Princess. Make a mess.”

And you did. 

Hiding your face in the bedding didn’t suppress the string of cries as you climaxed, squirting a small pool of release. 

Steve fucked you through it. Each of his hard thrusts ripping your whimpers into a choked single vowel as you went lax beneath him. 

“Fuck, Princess.”  He groaned, feeling your wetness drip down his balls. “I would wife you up for that alone. You really-” his hips snapped harder and faster- “are. Fucking. Perfect.” 

Your fingers remained intertwined, Steve’s face buried in the crook of your neck, as he came. Perhaps it was the angle at which he was buried inside of you, or maybe this time his orgasm was much stronger, but you felt every throb and every spurt more clearly than before. Felt yourself full with his cum and dripping excess of your combined spend. 

Long, long minutes later, when Steve pulled out and dropped next to you onto the mattress, you didn’t even blame him for not having enough power (or decency) to get you a wet cloth. 

Honestly, you didn’t have any strength to get up either. 

It was later, as you resigned yourself to falling asleep in the mess that you made, that you heard the sound of a drawer being open. Then a soft, wet wipe was pressed to your inner thigh. It was a surprise. Felt a little weird, too. But you rested quietly as Steve wiped you and himself clean, tossing used tissues into the bin hidden behind the nightstand.

When he laid back down on the unsoiled side of the bed and reached for you, you glared at him. 

Yes, he fucked your brains out. You seriously doubted there were any functioning brain cells left. Yes, you were officially married. Still, it didn’t mean you were going to play a docile wife in every aspect of this torment. 

“You want to sleep on the stained sheets?” Steve arched a single eyebrow. “Swallow your stubbornness and scoot here, Princess.” 

It was voiced as if he was giving you an option, but he didn’t wait for your decision. Astonishingly easily, he sneaked a hand under one of your thighs and simply lifted you enough to relocate you. 

Nestled to Steve’s side, with one leg hiked over his thigh, you willed yourself to stay awake long enough to sneak out when Steve dozed off. Unfortunately for you, your will was too fucked out. 

You fell asleep snuggled to the ruthless mafia monster.

[nosyrobin]

THE WHITE BAT

prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Warning: blood , canon violence, ooc for Damian(?)

Summary: again the bat fights crime, the bird comes to help. Ending in a bird’s injury, and bat’s protectiveness. Making the relationship bloom even more between the two young heroes.

Gun shots rang out in the alleyway, a swish sound connecting as a criminal falls straight onto their ass.

The knight strides towards their foe, glowing pink eyes as their hand graze the brick walls. Sharp claws, scraping the damned bricks that dare to make any sound other than nails on a chalkboard. The criminal shake before getting up and running making the white bat smile.

“Oh I love it when they run…” they said before they disappeared within the shadows. Smiling their sharp fangs….

Meanwhile Robin, aka Damian was crouching on a roof. Patrol, well more like a sneaked out one as his father try to ban him from patrol until he can get his “act” right. Dick had called it a “rebellious teen phase” making Damian scoff at that. Damian was mostly out on patrol to catch a certain white knight that caught his heart and attention. He hated that he won’t admit that he had secured the white cloak he kept somewhere else.

Okay so maybe he sleep with it some nights (every night) when he wants to think of white knight. But that doesn’t mean he’s that attached to the bat. As he uses his binoculars to scan the area out, that’s when he sees a suspicious person running. But he’s eyes widen when he sees a flash of a white cloak that belonged to a certain knight. His knight. Damian immediately pulled out his grapple hook, ready to meet the person he was destined to meet again.

Back to the bat, they followed the damned criminal. Coming out of the shadows. The shadows belonged to a warehouse, an abandoned looking one as the bat narrowed their pink eyes. Scanning the area, a bright light shined on them. Making them tense as they pushed their cloak off their arms, ready to take on whoever was trying to jump them.

“Hah! The little bat fell for it!” The same criminal said as he smiled with a gold tooth. There were five more guys around, surrounding the young hero who definitely didn’t give a fuck how many there were. They were gonna kick their ass.

As one ran up on the bat, they swiftly dodged the rush and grabbed the crook’s arm. Twisting it before kicking the crook towards another one. As an another enemy was sneaking up behind the white knight, a bat-a-rang slashes their hand that dare tried to touch them.

“Not on my watch.” Robin said as he swooped down and drop kicked the criminal down. “Robin? What are you doing here” the bat says as Robin dusted himself off, immediately putting his back against their as a few more crooks showed up.

“I’m helping you. Isn’t that obvious?” He said with a bat smirk. The white bat laughed out loud, showing their pearly white fangs. “Ah I see…well. Welcome to the show birdy.” The bat says as Robin nodded. They both put their fists up and got to work.

Robin uppercut an enemy before slamming them to his knee, the bat swooped around. Back flipping onto an enemy’s neck and bringing them down to crack their neck on pavement. Smiling as they got up and go to work on the others.

Robin gave a nimble roundhouse kick before you appear above him and gave a nice axe kick. Completing the combo move as you landed gracefully by the bird. It seemed you beat the other up as Robin and you finished his last one. Your cloak covered your body as you looked at the boy wonder. “That was amazing….we should do this next time we meet up. The bat says as they look down at the bird. Robin didn’t say anything other than nodding. The bat nods and goes to walk off.

Meanwhile Robin sucked in his lower lip before grabbing their cloak, prompting the white knight to stop. “Wait….would like to patrol with me? Watch over Gotham, til it’s time for me to go?” He asked softly. The white knight smiled, their pink eyes glowing softly.

“Sure i would—”

Robin’s eyes widen as he immediately jumped in front of you, a shot rang from the air as the bat’s and bird’s ears rang. Robin falls to his knees, making the bat’s eyes widen with fear.

“ROBIN!” Immediately they turn to the person who shot the Batman’s sidekick. It was the criminal from the start of it all. The bat glared as they opened their mouth. A piercing scream came out like a wild tornado at the man. Throwing him across the stone wall of the warehouse.

The man tried to sit up only to get knocked down by a boot to his chest. Blazing pink eyes look at the man with rage as they open their mouth.

“You dare harm him…I shall not be the one to spare your life.” Wide bat wings sprouted from their back. The criminal whimpered as the bat attacked. Leaving screams and blood splattered, but after that was done. There were no traces.

Now it was only Damian moaning in pain and an angry bat’s protectiveness took place. The bat grabbed the boy and head off with a quick leap into the air and onto a roof..

“Fuck” the white knight says, dragging the word as they hopped roof to roof before jumping through an open window of their hide out. Holding the injured bird close to their body.

Lightly putting Damian down as he moans and groans. The bullet wasn’t made to just hurt you, it was made to kill you. And Damian could handle a bullet..or could he? Your thoughts was moving wild as Damian’s eyes were shut tight. Still making noise and gripping onto you as if you would disappear. You shush Damian, lifting his uniform shirt to get a look at the bullet wound.

It wasn’t too deep, but it was stuck. “Sorry Damian…this might hurt you.” You softly say as you used your sharp nails to dig it out. Damian yelled out loudly, making you cringe as you keep digging and digging. The squishy sounds of flesh and his agonizing screams made your heart sink a little. But it ended when you pulled it out perfectly in one piece and started to disinfect the wound.

Damian hissed with slight open eyes now, he felt embarrassed. He could take swords going through his arms by Slade , and practically anything he had to go through when being in league of assassins. But a bullet wound in his stomach that was meant for you.

And somehow he couldn’t handle the pain. That bullet was laced for something that was meant to kill you. But it couldn’t kill him, so he had to jump in front of you and take it. His eyes flutter looking at you, reaching a hand out and touching your cheek.

“You okay?” He asked as he tried to sit up, even if you had just bandaged him up and stitched the wound shut while he was stuck in his thoughts.

“You’re asking if I’m okay after literally taking a bullet for me.. color me stoke..you sure are something birdy..” you said in a low tone, your voice raspy from yelling his hero name as you got up from the bed side. Putting away the med kit. Damian slightly chuckled as he watched you carefully, “of course I have to ask for your wellbeing..we’re…partners..aren’t we?” He asked. He tried to make his tone not so obvious that he was nervous about the fact he said you two were technically friends.

You slowly turned your head around before turning it back at the door out of the room you both were in.

You smirked, “yeah.. I guess we are..”

White bat!reader tag: @minkyungseokie @amber-content @chibiduck

A/N: the more chapters go on, the more longer the story gets…awesome isn’t it?